


Peggy Carter is a Howling Commando

by The_Marauders_Daughter



Series: Steggy Positivity Week 2k16 [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: #SayNoToHYDRACap, AU, BAMF Peggy Carter, Budding Romance, F/M, Peggy and the Howlers are Bros, Please Don't Kill Me, Semi-smut, Steve and Peggy flirt and it's painful to watch, Undercover, Wartime AU, bucky is an asshole, irish gaelic, something to read during this political storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Marauders_Daughter/pseuds/The_Marauders_Daughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to 'Mr. Carter and Mrs. Rogers'</p><p>It's 1944, and Hydra is giving the SSR a very hard time. Sometimes Captain America isn't enough for a mission. Sometimes what the mission needs is Peggy Carter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Name is 'Agent'

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of Steggy Positivity Week, started by fuckyeahsteveandpeggy (#steggyweek2k16) on Tumblr.

A strong cup of tea. Was that too much to ask? A large, hot cup of Earl Gray, with steam rising into the air. Peggy could almost smell it in her fantasy, but her face betrayed nothing as she watched Colonel Phillips tear into the newest members of the SSR’s surveillance team. Punctuality was supposed to be drilled into soldiers, but as Phillips finished, it was clear that some men needed a gentle reminder.

“When I say 0900 hours, I mean 0900, understood?” His voice was aimed at everyone, but his glare was directed at Agent Gwyn. 

“Yes sir!” Everyone answered, even Gwyn, who looked two seconds away from fainting. “Dismissed! And Carter!”

Peggy didn’t even jump. “Yes, sir?”

“I want you ready to leave this camp in three hours.”

It might have been the exhaustion from going three consecutive days without sleep, or the two meals she had already missed in a row, but Peggy’s first thought was that she was finally being fired. “Sir?” The unspoken  _ why?! _ hung in the air.

“Intelligence says the relay station that they’re looking for might be one of the Hydra bases. Since we lit the fire under the Red Skull’s ass, Schmidt has gotten smart. He’s been syphoning as much information and technology to Italy as he can before his pants burn off.”

It was as if he deliberately ignored the fact that she’d been working on finding those bases, hence the three-day insomnia. “Yes, sir, I’ve heard,” she said, moving closer as the rest of the meeting members walked out of the tent. “Henderson says they’ve narrowed it down to two possible locations.”

“The 107th is set to hit them both. Intelligence needs someone to go with them, to sort and decipher any codes the Nazis have. They’ve set up a small team.”

Peggy’s heart skipped a beat. “And I’m to go with them, sir?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice even.

“You’re a codebreaker, aren’t you? The company can spare you for a month or so, and you’ve been whining about seeing active duty.”

“I do not whine, sir,” she sniffed, trying to keep her mouth from smiling. It was hard to maintain decorum as the weight of his words hit her.

The teasing shine in Phillips’ eye was surely just a figment of her imagination. “Just quoting the mission orders, Carter,” Colonel Phillips said gruffly. He pulled a file from his folders and shoved it at her. “Don’t get killed. Don’t get anyone else killed.”

“I didn’t know you cared, sir,” she remarked dryly. 

“The 107th is important. Rogers is the only one of his kind. Mission reports say he’s a hothead commando.”

“Given the name of his unit, sir, one cannot be surprised. He does have the unfortunate habit of leaping without looking.”

“He likes to jump on grenades and out of airplanes, Carter. He’s not right in the head.”

The muscles at the corner of her mouth tugged it into a smirk. “And to think you didn’t want him to see action, Colonel.”

“Just come back alive and with information. You and the other members of your team will convene in front of the mess at 1200. I assume you know how to prepare for the field?”

“Of course, sir.”

The look in Phillips’ eyes softened. “Then watch yourself, Agent Carter. I have written too many condolence letters in my life.”

“I’ll make sure you won’t have to write one for this mission, sir,” she answered softly. 

“Good.” He coughed, then barked out, “now, get out of my sight!”

“Yes, sir!” Peggy turned her heel and tried not to race to her tent. 

*

The excitement of finally going on a mission again kept Peggy warm through her next two meetings, but it was hard to keep focused. It was made easier by the ridiculous opinions of the agents leading the last meeting, who tried to convince their companions to move their base of operations permanently to London. Peggy was part of the counterargument, but no matter how much logic, information, and threats were used, steady minds were not able to dissuade Agents Seymour and Gillis from their opinion. The argument got so heated one of the agents decided brute force was necessary, and tossed Seymour and Gillis out into the snow. Fists and boots quickly followed, and it wasn’t until Peggy emptied an entire bucket of water over the mob that she remembered the time.

“Bloody Norah,” she hissed, seeing the change of guard. She twisted Agent Burke’s’ arm to get to his wristwatch and saw that she was supposed to have been ready to leave ten minutes ago. She was still dressed in her dress uniform, an unfortunate byproduct of attending a meeting with the Inspector General, which left her in a not-nearly-warm-enough skirt and high heels. “Damn.” She threw the bucket at Gillis, who was pulling himself up for Round 3, and ran to her barrack. 

Her path led her through the clearing in front of the mess hall, where off-duty soldiers lining up for lunch. She pushed her way through, forcing herself to slow down so she wouldn’t make a spectacle of herself. She glanced around and saw a group of men already gathered in the meeting area. A familiar arm clad in olive drab cut through the air and waved.  _ “Peg!” _

“I still need to change!” she yelled back. “Don’t leave without me!” She saw the hand make an ‘ok’ sign before she crashed into a man and nearly fell. 

“Watch where you’re going!” he snapped, smoothing his uniform of non-existent creases.

“I shall if you will do the same,” she replied, moving to walk around him when he grabbed her arm.

“None of that lip, secretary. Bring some coffee to the officer’s tent, and make it quick.”

The man was tall and wide, outfitted in a uniform that seemed to have seen combat only in photographs. He seemed like one of the ‘soldiers’ the Inspector General had brought with him. Peggy wished that he hadn’t; she raised her eyebrow and looked down at her arm. 

“Did you not hear me?” the man asked, tightening his grip.

“My ears are in perfect working order,” she said, drawing herself up as high as her heels allowed. “Your brain, it seems, cannot boast of the same status. Unhand me this instant.”

“What’s your name?” He leaned down until he was eye to eye with her. Out of the corner of her own, Peggy saw that Steve and his company had stopped talking and moved closer to her.

“Agent,” she growled. 

“Hey!” one of Steve’s men shouted. “Leave the lady alone!”

“A  _ lady  _ would not step foot outside of her home,” the man answered. “Everyone knows only one type of woman follows men into war.” He slowly scanned Peggy up and down. “She could be worse.”

There was a cry of outrage from the Commandos. Steve’s voice cut through, making everyone fall silent. “Need any help, Agent Carter?” His words were polite, but they rang cold as steel.

“After the morning I’ve had, Captain?” she answered, just as lightly. “Please, let me.”

The man didn’t seem disconcerted at having Captain America’s team fixing him in their sight. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing. Do you have any idea who I am?”

“At this moment, the brute who won’t let go of my arm. This is your last warning. Let me go.  _ Now.” _

“Stupid wench,” he snarled. “You need to learn some respect.” He drew his free hand back to slap her and Peggy took her opening. She grabbed his arm where his hand met hers and pulled him in, bringing them close enough together that she could lift her knee and smash it below his ribs, and again between his legs. The air left his lungs and he bent forward. Peggy didn’t stop moving and turned so her back was to his chest, planted her feet, grabbed his arm with both hands and yanked,  _ hard. _ He went flying tail over teakettle, over her shoulder and into the muddy snow. There was definitely more than one wrinkle in his uniform, but based on the way he was grabbing himself, wrinkles were the last of his concerns. 

The Commandos cheered, making Peggy smile. “I don’t usually get that kind of reaction,” she said glibly. 

Steve walked to her, but he couldn’t stop beaming. “That was amazing.”

She shrugged, a grin working itself onto her own face. “I can teach you, if you'd—”

“Carter!” The bellow came from an angry Phillips, walking towards them with a very distressed inspector in tow. 

“Colonel,” she nodded. “Inspector.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Everyone snapped to attention. Peggy opened her mouth to answer when Phillips continued. “I told you to be gone twenty minutes ago. Edwards and Wicks are already loaded up.”

“Lieutenant Haynes!” the Inspector screeched. “What the hell is going on?” 

“I’m sorry sir,” Steve answered, stepping up behind her. “It’s my fault. You see, my men got a little excited seeing Agent Carter again, one of them tried to show off by sparring with the Lieutenant, and I’m afraid he got a little carried away.” Behind him, his men pulled up Haynes and dusted him off, apologies flowing from their lips like cigarette smoke. “I’m sorry, old man.”

Haynes, who was still bent in half, wheezed out a sound that may have been a reply.

“I apologize,” Steve said, sincerity dripping from every word. “I’ll make sure to have a word with my men.”

“Make sure you do,” the Inspector snapped. He narrowed his eyes at Steve, no doubt unable to recognize him. “And you are?”

“Captain Rogers, 107th infantry, sir.” The change was in the Inspector was immediate, and he nearly fell over.

“Captain America!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve put on his best ‘aw, shucks’ expression and the Commandos had to turn around in order to not laugh.

“I saw your tour in D.C.” the Inspector blathered. “My wife and I saw all your movies. Riveting, every single one.” Peggy called on all her training to maintain her composure, but based on the loud guffaw Dugan let out, quickly turned into a cough, they weren’t going to last much longer.

“Thank you,” Steve simpered, before glancing over his shoulder. “Men, why don’t you help Agent Carter. And drop the Lieutenant off at the medic. We’re out in twenty.”

“Yes, Captain.” They broke into two groups, half walking to the sick tent and the other heading towards the barracks, Peggy leading the way. They started laughing as soon as they were out of earshot, and the Howlers clapped Peggy on the back. “Great job, Peg,” Gabe laughed.

“Pansy needed to get his ass kicked,” Dum Dum snorted. “Although that last part might have been a bit much.”

“He needs to work on his manners,” Peggy explained. She slipped into her rooms and talked through the wall as she changed. “Maybe this lesson will stick around a bit longer this way.”

“As long as no one makes us try to learn that lesson,” a new voice said, joining the group outside.

“Are you planning on a refresher, Sergeant Barnes?” She’d done a little something to him early on in their acquaintance, and everyone enjoyed bringing it up as often as they could. 

The men laughed at Barnes, who only protested that he'd just tried some harmless flirting and no woman had ever thrown him across the room before. “No wonder Stevie's smitten with you.”

Peggy tied her hair up and walked out of her room, bag in hand and glare on her face. “Barnes.”

“Carter?”

“You're asking for a repeat.”

“No, ma'am,” he cried, jumping back a step. “I learned my lesson already.”

“Good.” She threw her pack at him, smiling as he caught it. “In that case, you can carry my bag.” She patted his shoulder as they walked towards the trucks. “You're  _ such  _ a gentleman, after all.”

Steve and the other half of the Commandos met them at the trucks _ —“How are you all back so early?” “You told us to drop off Haynes, so we did.” “Where?” “In the mud puddle in front of the sick tent.” “Bucky!” “What? You’re just jealous you didn’t get the chance.” “Jerk.” “Punk.” _ —and then Peggy was able to greet all of the boys properly.

They had been debriefed, briefly, and the two other agents Intelligence sent were too starstruck to speak. Sensing that they needed an out, Steve asked that as expert, Peggy elaborate.

She dove straight in, talking as they drove the trucks toward enemy territory. “We intercepted some messages from Schmidt to what we believe to be his factories; they need to ramp up production and get their technology to Italy.”

“Any chance they said where the bases were?” Dugan asked, lighting a cigar.

The boys started complaining about the smell, and Dugan was quickly relegated to the outermost seat. Peggy rolled her eyes. “Their code was less secure that they expected; the SSR thinks that there’s one in Poznan, in Poland, and the other near Kaliningrad.”

“Prussia.” 

“Yes.”

“Let’s head to Prussia first,” Steve said. “That way, we can get the worst of the travel distance finished with.”

“So why did Intelligence send you down here?” Barnes asked.

“Because your team is terribly lacking,” she said, making the boys laugh. 

“Something tells me there’s another reason,” Morita said.

“You know how you lot like to destroy every base, burn it to the ground, leave nothing but ashes?”

_ “That’s my favorite part,” _ Dernier said in French.

“The SSR doesn't know  _ where  _ in Italy the Germans are sending the technology. We need to go through their files and see if there is any information.” She laughed at the look on the boys’ faces when they realized they couldn’t explode the next bases. “We’re coming along in case there is some information in code.”

“Steve did say that you were the best codebreaker in the SSR,” Barnes said, making Steve roll his eyes and move to join Falsworth up front. “Hope there’s something interesting in Prussia.”


	2. Peggy's Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy works with Intelligence Agents and gets a promotion (sort of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, right? I make no promises, and will try to tell no lies, so here is the truth- I have five of these chapters written and my lovely beta, Cynically_Yaris_XO, is helping me get them up and out. Hopefully I can upload everything this week. Fingers crossed!

Peggy, for all that she was female and only 23, had seen her fair share of action. She had been the one to smuggle Erskine out of Germany, right from under Schmidt's nose. She had extensive knowledge of firearms and hand-to-hand combat, and her precision with a pistol was legendary. She often forayed into enemy territory, and faced death on more than one occasion. This was hardly her first mission with Steve, or even with the Commandos. Peggy Carter was a stellar agent, and more than capable of handling herself and other. She’d overseen the training of the Project Rebirth recruits, for crying out loud.

But for some reason, the agents from Intelligence seemed to be unaware of that.

“Agent Wick, if you do not stop hovering and search another room for files, I take Captain Rogers’ shield and club you over the head with it.”

“Just want to be thorough,” the agent said, although he did take a step back from her. “We can’t miss anything.”

Finding the base in Kaliningrad had been easy. Taking control had been the difficult part; it was barely half-finished, and therefore had been swarming with builders, workers, and Hydra soldiers. It was a bit of a bloodbath, but nothing too tasking. Instead of sitting out the battle with Wick and Edwards, Peggy had joined the attack.

She was still a bit buzzed with leftover energy from the fight, and worked quickly through the files they’d found. Wick and Edwards, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate having a very short timeline to sort through all of the files left intact.

“Are you implying I don’t know how to do my job?” she finally snapped.

“We can’t afford to miss anything.”

“For the last time,” she ground out. “We’re just searching for documents of value. We can take them with us, so you don’t need to translate the _entire bloody thing.”_ She glared at Edwards, who was walking into the room with a crate full of new material. “We need to be gone by sunset, Edwards. Is any of that relevant to what we’re searching for?”

“Dugan told me to bring it,” he said, not looking too pleased about it. “Why can’t they handle the grunt work?”

“Spoiled little rich boy,” the man in question was right behind him, heaving more crates into the room. “Jones said that these mention building materials that can’t withstand cold temperatures. Thought maybe that could be your base in Italy.”

“Excellent,” she said. “Wick, go through that.”

Wick did as he was told, but he threw a dirty look over his shoulder. “Henderson said that you were in charge of Intelligence,” he whispered to Edwards, making sure Peggy couldn’t hear him. “So why’s she calling all the shots?”

“Probably sleeping with somebody,” he sneered.

Two large hands reached out and banged their heads together. They cried out in alarm as Dugan did it again before throwing them on their asses. “Agent Carter is twice the agent either of you is,” he snarled. “Don’t disrespect the lady.”

“Thank you, Timothy,” Peggy said lightly. “Just don’t hurt them too badly; we still need them for Poland.”

Barnes took that moment to stick his head into the room. He took in the two grown men sitting on the floor, Dugan leaning against the wall, and Peggy nonchalantly sorting through her papers. “Everybody doing ok?”

“Just fine, thank you,” she said. “Well be done in about an hour.” Her words made both Intelligence agents surge upward and start digging frantically through the files.

“Right. I think I can stick around, then. Help out, if you need me to.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Captain’s orders?”

“Same as always,” Barnes said, flashing her a grin. “Do as Peggy says.”

*

After the semi-success of Poznan—bigger facility, bloodier fight, only a fraction of the recovered documents were relevant, and the rest were simply confirmation of information they’d already suspected—they were halfway through their journey home when a freak winter storm forced them to take shelter.

“You wanna freeze out there, Director?” Peggy rolled her eyes and kept looking over the overhang. They’d been lucky to find a cave large enough to accommodate everyone, but that didn’t mean she was in a hurry to join the dogpile of sweaty, smelly, blood-covered men that waited inside. She hardly smelled like roses herself, but at least outside there was fresh air. A gust of wind drove its cold deep into her bones and she found herself changing her mind. Jones called her name again and she turned around enough to glare.

“I’ll go in when I’m ready.”

“You’re our key codebreaker, Carter. You can’t get sick.”

“Like that would stop me?” She turned her glare to Steve. “Are you putting on airs again, Rogers?” He put up his hands in defense, then quickly brought them back up to fix the blanket around his shoulders.

“Even I’m getting cold, Peg.” He followed up with a pointed look that made her remember the first time she went on a mission with Steve. It had been a simple recon, one that lasted a single night; he’d been good about treating her like one of the team, until the topic of night-watch came up.

_"Don't give me that bullshit, Rogers. I'm a soldier, same as the rest of you. My turn needs to come up, same as everyone else's.”_

_"You know I outrank you, right?"_

_"l follow your orders when you're not being an ass, Captain. If Barnes is to be believed, that's not often.”_

_He sighed. “Something tells me that if I assign someone else, you're just going to take their turn.”_

_"Your boys love me,” she smiled. “I'll take third watch.”_

“Peggy, are you sure you don't want to—”

"I'm coming, I'm coming.” She walked into the cave, kicking at Steve’s leg, and threw one last log into the fire.

The manner in which team had settled themselves into the cave was the way they did everything else: organized chaos. Men were sprawled all over, and there was barely enough room to step around them, but it was more practical that way. There weren’t enough blankets and bedrolls to go around, so they piled on top of one another, keeping warm with body heat and whiskey. Everyone had seen each other bleeding, naked, and pissed-drunk on more than one occasion, so not much remained in the way of propriety. But while the Commandos spooned and curled together in comfort, the boys from Intelligence had too much pride to stoop that low. Each man stayed a measured distance away from everyone else, hogging blankets and shivering in delusional victory.

Peggy was not that stupid.

"Shove over,” she said, pushing in between Barnes and Morita. “Keep your hands to yourself, Barnes, or else your sister will be the last of your family line.”

"Wouldn't dream of it, doll,” he smiled, passing another blanket over to her. “Stevie would kill me.”

"Peggy would kill you,” came his muffled voice from the entrance of the cave. “I just hope she'd let us watch.” Jones laughed from his place beside Steve.

"Is this how you pay me back, punk? After all the times I saved your scrawny ass?"

"Not so scrawny anymore,” Dugan snorted, passing a dark brown bottle to Derrier. The Frenchman nodded in agreement, taking a long swig before passing the bottle to Morita.

"No, it's not,” Peggy added, wriggling closer into Barnes. He wrapped an arm around her, and she was too receptive of his body heat to protest, instead nuzzling into his side.

Edwards turned to look at her properly, no mean feat when he was wrapped up in more layers than an onion. “You know, Carter, I always had you pegged as a too-polite-for-you, straight-laced sort of broad.”

During the raid in Poland, some Hydra soldiers had broken free and tried to run, most likely for reinforcements. They had managed to run straight into where Wick and Edwards were hiding. They tried to turn it into a hostage situation, but Peggy had shot both captors clean through the head, and the Howlers had taken care of the rest. Wick and Edwards had moderately warmed up to her after that, but their attempts at making amends were worse than Steve’s skills with women.

Peggy pinned him with a glare. He smiled at her, but when she didn't respond, a tense quiet fell between them, until all the attention in the cave was focused on the two soldiers. Edwards looked ill at ease, but he met Peggy's gaze head on. Just when Edwards opened his mouth to intervene Peggy threw back her head and shouted _“Hitler has only got one ball...!"_

 _“Göring has two but very small,”_ everyone shouted automatically, and they finished the song, _“Himmler has something sim'lar, but poor old Goebbels has no balls at all.”_

“Straight-laced?” She took the proffered bottle and smiled at the Howlers. “Does anyone know ‘The Long and the Short and the Tall’?

“As long as you’re willing to sing it ‘Fuck ‘Em All,’ Carter,” Dugan said, taking the whiskey from her again.

“Is there any other way?”

After a round of ‘Kiss Me Goodnight, Sergeant Major,’ and a stunning performance by Morita and Barnes of ‘Do Your Balls Hang Low,’ Edwards and Wick were allowed to join the huddle, and no one suffered from frostbite that night.

* * *

After getting back to base, debriefing with Intelligence, and sorting through all the papers they’d recovered, they had a big fat—

_“Nothing?”_

“None of the documents we found had mention of location,” Peggy said to Colonel Phillips. The Howlers and the men from Intelligence stood with her. “We managed to prove our theory that there is a base in Italy, but we don’t know where. The bases were either too new or too remote to have pertinent information.”

“No order forms, maps, orders, transcripts—?”

“We might have something, sir. A name popped up.”

“Who?”

“Luca Kruger.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“We’ve done some digging,” Peggy said. “The seat of the Burgenland state government in Austria is in Eisenstadt. Kruger is the head of the landtag there. We’re thinking that he might be the go between with Schmidt and Italy.”

“So… Austria.”

Peggy nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“At least you all came back in one piece,” Phillips harrumphed. From him, it was praise, and the closest to a well-done that Peggy had ever heard from him. “You’re going after it?”

“Just need you to sign off on it, sir.”

“Fine. Your lead. Talk to Daniels; I want at least two men with you. You can keep Wick and Edwards if you want, just get Henderson to approve it. If he tries to kick you off, send him to me. I want you seeing this thing to the end, Carter.”

“Yes, sir.”

He paused, looking up at everyone still in the tent. “Did you ladies need anything else, or are you standing around for your health? Dismissed!”

Wick and Edwards hightailed it out of there, but the Commandos looked up at Steve. He nodded, and they went. Steve didn’t move though, and even with a glare from a departing Barnes, he stayed. “Sir, I was under the impression that my men would be accompanying Agent Carter to Eisenstadt.”

“You, Rogers? Are you a specialized Intelligence agent? Are any of your men trained to infiltrate the enemy undercover? You might look like an Aryan wet dream but do you speak any German?”

 _“Tue ich.”_ [I do.]

 _“Nein!”_ [No.] Phillips snapped back. “What’s your endgame, Rogers? Why do you want to go to Austria? I gave you a full two weeks with Carter, the best I can do without giving you both leave and throwing you in a closet together.” Peggy flushed to hear Phillips talking so candidly about her and Steve, throwing around words on a relationship she refused to acknowledge. “What more do you want?”

“Agent Carter is one of our own,” Steve said immediately. “It’s not that we don’t trust Intelligence, or Major Daniels’ men, but we want to see this through to the end, too.”

“Carter.” Phillips turned to her. “What is your plan for Austria?”

“Reconnaissance, if possible. Infiltration if not. Most likely Kruger would be at the Rathaus, Eisenstadt’s city hall. I’m looking for a paper trail— a communication system, some form of translation code. German is not Italian and the translation between them is not easy; they’re communicating somehow, and most likely it’s written down somewhere. I just need to find how.”

She kept her eyes fixed on Phillips, who in turn kept staring down Steve. “This mission requires stealth, precision, delicacy… Your shield is not subtle.”

“I would still like to go, sir.”

“Carter?” Phillips sat down. “Your boyfriend, your call.”

Peggy knew that if she faced Steve, she would cave. Her first instinct was to say yes, eager to get as much time with him as possible. She cared for Steve, more than she had ever cared for anyone in her life before, and ‘waiting for the right partner’ did not guarantee that both partners would survive the war.

Peggy’s brain overrode her heart; this was a mission. _Her_ mission. Phillips was letting her take the lead. And Steve’s wheelhouse was combat, not espionage. Barnes’ stories aside, Steve couldn’t lie to save his life. As wonderful as he was, her specialty was blending in, working her way into tight spots and sliding back out. Steve was too noticeable to escape notice.

Unless... “Sir, you wanted me to ask Daniels for men?”

“You’re going into enemy territory, Carter. You need backup in case anything goes south.”

“But not necessarily for the mission?”

Phillips glowered at her. “You’re taking advantage, woman.”

She couldn’t keep back a smirk. “Of you, Colonel? Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> German is in italics, with the translation in brackets. Thanks to the lovely Kakaobohne for fixing my Google translation, since this chick can only Spanish! 
> 
> What did you think?


	3. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's mission gets a little more and a little less complicated. She blames Steve, and Barnes for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments last chapter! It inspired me to update! This is a little more fluffy than substance, but I had to cut it off otherwise I would have a very, very long chapter. I will update soon, and I will try to finish my classwork quickly to do it--this Masters better be worth it.

“Austria, wahoo!”

“Stop ‘wahoo’-ing and help.” Peggy hip-checked Dugan, making him latch onto Barnes to keep his balance. They both tripped over Edwards’ bags, and landed in the mud with a loud ‘squelch.’ “Will you stop playing around? You’re bloody children, both of you.”

“Ooh, is Peggy playing evil step-mommy?”

She leveled a glare at the latest arrival. “Shut up, Howard.” 

“Oh god, you’re not going, are you?” Barnes looked up at her. “You’re evil, Peg.”

“Calm down, Sarge. I’m not going.” Howard whistled and a couple of privates brought a trunk forward. “Just a little going away present for our resident femme fatale.”

Peggy pushed past her annoyance and banged on the side of the truck. “Can we fit this in?”

Steve poked his head out and she pointed at the trunk. “It’ll have to go under the heavy equipment.” He cocked his head at the men on the ground. “Buck, whatcha doing down there?”

“That’s fine.” She turned back to Howard. “Did you—?”

“It’s all in there. I threw in a couple extra goodies, give your boy a nice surprise.”

“Howard, I can kill you and make it look like an accident.”

“Promises, promises. All Stark-quality, guaranteed to work.”

“Like that flying car in New York?” Bucky asked, helping Steve lug the equipment back out of the truck.

“It hovered!”

“That’s not flying.”

“Look at Cap,” Howard bragged. “If I can make that, I can make Dolores fly.”

Barnes was quick to argue. “You didn’t make Steve. Erskine made Steve.”

“Steve’s parents made Steve,” Steve interrupted. “Did you want to be left alone for a while, the way you two are flirting?”

Howard threw an arm around Barnes’ shoulders. “You’re just jealous we flirt better than you and Peggy.”

“Anybody flirts better than Steve,” Barnes said, carefully extracting himself from the inventor’s hold. “Did he ever tell you the time that—”

“No.” Steve snapped. His Captain voice usually made everyone obey, but Barnes was immune after a lifetime of being his friend.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Any story you say, no.”

“It can’t all be bad,” Peggy said. “Your trips to Coney Island were never too harrowing. I never much cared for the Cyclone, anyway.”

“You told her about that?” Steve cried, turning pink.

“She wanted to know if heights had ever made you sick.” Barnes shrugged. “Makes sense, considering you’re a blockhead who decided it was a good idea to jump from an airplane into enemy territory  _ without knowing how to put on the goddamn parachute!” _

“You told him about that?” Steve asked again, in a very different tone of voice.

“What?” she said casually. “He’s your friend.”

“Doesn't mean you tell him about…” he cut himself off with a sigh. 

She smirked. “At least I didn’t tell him everything about Camp Leigh.”

“You mean the time he jumped on a grenade?” Howard asked innocently.

_ “You did what?!” _

“Bucky—”

_ “Steven Grant Rogers!” _

“Bucky, listen—”

_ “You jumped on a fucking grenade?” _

“It was a dummy grenade,” Peggy offered.

He whirled to Peggy. “You’re supposed to help me stop him from making stupid decisions.”

Her jaw dropped. “Barnes, have you  _ met _ Steve?”

“Have I met… I grew up with that punk-ass bastard,” he screeched. 

“Oh, this is going to be entertaining,” Howard stage-whispered. “Private, find some popcorn.”

Barnes grabbed Steve by the shoulder and hauled him off to the side, supposedly out of earshot. He was very off the mark. “What on earth possessed you to try to sign up for that crazy shit,  _ amadan _ ?” [idiot]

“Buck, don’t start—”

“Fuckin’ idiot, signing up for a science experiment to do what?”

“You know perfectly well—”

Barnes shoved Steve on his chest. “No one thought that science fiction shit was gonna work—”

“It was perfectly safe—”

“You’re a freaking Hercules, Steve, you used to be ninety pounds soaking wet—”

“Bucky, I don’t wanna—”

_ “Is cuma liom sa diabhal!”  _ [I don’t give a damn.]

_ “Bi ‘do thost!” _ [Shut up.]

“Rogers—”

“We’re not gonna do this here,  _ bod _ .” [dick]

“Don’t  _ bod  _ me, fucking asshole. If your Ma wasn’t already dead—”

“You leave my Ma out of this—”

“Mama Sarah is turning over in her grave. Just wait until we get back home, my Ma is gonna—”

“Don’t bring Mama Winnie into—”

“I ain't care how big and strong you are now, Stevie, Ma is gonna bend you over her knee and tan your hide, and then it’ll be me, for not keeping you out of trouble.”

“James Buchanan, will you just shut  _ up?!” _

“No, I will not shut up!” He threw his hands in the air and stomped to the woods. Steve was on his heels as they disappeared into the trees. 

“Should we send someone after them?” Edwards asked weakly. 

Dugan snorted. “If those two can't keep safe for ten minutes, there's no way we're winning this war.”

The sounds of punching reached them and Peggy rolled her eyes.  _ Boys.  _ “Alright, gentlemen, let’s finish packing. I want everything ready to move in thirty minutes.”

“You heard the Director.” Dugan clapped his hands. “Let's move. I'm ready for my leave!”

“Ma'am, what about Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes?” a private asked. 

“If they haven't finished their family spat by then, they get left behind.”

They were almost out of the camp when Steve and Barnes jumped into the back of the truck. Each man was out of breath and had more than one bruise coloring his face. “Nice of you to join us.”

“Damn, Carter,” Barnes panted. “We're you really gonna leave us behind?”

“What do you think?” she deadpanned. 

Barnes let out a low whistle.  _ “Roghnaigh tú ifreann de cailín.” _ [You chose a hell of a dame.]

Steve punched his shoulder. “Shut up.”

 

* * *

Austria wasn’t anything like the Axis-occupied cities. Where Peggy would usually be able to pass herself off as a regular citizen, or tourist, and find a shop-worker or house-servant to let her take her place where she wanted it, Austria was very different. 

“I can't find anything,” she growled, stomping back into the parlor, which functioned as their mission command room. She peeled off her hat and threw it against the wall. “New Year’s Eve is tonight and there's not a single job to be had.” Bastards. 

“Really?” Barnes asked from the sofa, stretched out with an arm over his eyes. He'd have been the very picture of ease if his body weren't so unnaturally still. “Nothing?”

She whacked his feet off the couch, making him sit up to avoid falling. “This isn't your house, Barnes. We're giving it back.”

Peggy had found the modest house on her first tour of the city. She’d pretended to be lost and having car trouble. When the man that owned the house followed her to her ‘car,’ the boys had jumped him. 

Josef Ornstein had spent the last three days tied up in the basement of his house. Edwards and Steve took turns watching him, because they were the only one that didn't scare him—Wick, with long rambling stories in English—or play with him—Barnes, who liked to whistle while sharpening his knives in his presence. 

At least they were better than Nazi captors. Peggy was not a fan of their methods, and made sure they fed their prisoner and that he got to see sunlight every day. 

“Any chance it’ll be soon?” Barnes snarled. 

She busied herself looking over the sketches Steve had made of the Rathaus and surrounding area. It was more a task to keep her hands busy than anything else; she'd already memorized all the schematics. “You're a bit of an arse, you know that, right?” 

“I've earned it,” he said, laying back down. 

“Oh really?”

“There's a lovely dame a couple doors down, Asitria, or Astria, or something—”

“Lovely.”

“—and she mentioned her sister being invited to the big New Year's Eve party at the Rathaus. She even showed me her ticket.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card with gold filigree over the surface. “Looked a little something like this.”

She snatched the card from his fingers and ignored his smug grin. “I thought you didn't speak German.”

He wriggled his eyebrows at her. “Never underestimate the importance of body language.”

“You and Howard are two peas in a pod, I swear.” She smiled at his indignant squeak and studied the card. It was a heavy cardstock and embossed, but the ‘Fraulein Dietrich’ on the invitation was written in ink. If she could erase the name… but she didn't have to. 

“You're welcome,” Barnes drawled. 

Peggy had no compunction tossing him from his seat this time. “Tell everyone I want them in this room in five minutes!” she yelled as she raced up the stairs. There was a lot to plan for. 

***

Peggy sighed. “I owe Howard ten dollars.”

"Why?"

"I swore I would never wear this again.” She frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “He wagered that I would put it on at least once more before the war was out.”

"Wear what, exactly?” Steve asked, still concentrating on his shoes. 

“This.” He looked up to find Peggy holding a large piece of golden cloth up to her body.

Barnes’ lucky break had meant a haphazardly thrown together plan. Peggy had nearly given all the men a heart attack when she'd assembled them. 

_ “I'm going into the Rathaus tonight.” _

_ “Alone?” Steve and Barnes chorused at the same time Edwards and Wick cried “tonight?!” _

_ “Sergeant Barnes’s sticky fingers got us an invitation,” she explained. “I'll be ‘Fraulein Dietrich’ and get the intel, if it's there.” _

_ “By yourself?” Steve asked again. “Didn't Phillips want you with a team?” _

_ “For security, Rogers, you know I’m good at what I do. None of you are particularly built for espionage, I'm afraid.” Wick and Edwards looked relieved, Barnes looked annoyed, and Steve’s expression did not change. _

_ “It's too dangerous.” _

_ Her eyes flashed dangerously. “If you say what I think you're going to say, Rogers, I will pull my gun again and I'm not going to aim for your shield.” _

_ “You know I'm the last person to say you can't do anything because you're a woman,” he said without pause. “It’s dangerous because you'll be in enemy territory without backup. We don't know what you're up against.” _

_ “Your concern is touching, but best case scenario I get the information we need, worst case I flirt my way out of it; public displays of affection turn more heads away than bullets. And in case it slipped your notice, Captain, this invitation is addressed to ‘Fraulein Dietrich.’ Unless your serum’s abilities extend to changing genders, you're not going.” _

_ “It can't be too hard to change the name, can it?” Barnes asked, crossing his arms and glaring at the two of them. “Add a ‘Mister’ in there.”  _

_ Wicks picked up the invitation, scratching a nail over the inked name. “It wouldn't be hard. Just a little bit of water, maybe some alcohol and…” He trailed off as he caught sight of Peggy’s glare. “Ma'am.” _

_ “If I'm taking anyone, it'll be one of those two.” She shook her head at Edwards and Wick, both whom immediately went white at the idea. “You need to know German or Italian.” _

_ Steve’s “I speak German” was drowned out by the Intelligence agents yelling “I don't speak it!” _

_ “Just take Steve, for fuck’s sake.” Barnes heaved himself off the couch and rifled through the sketches of the building that littered the table. “I don't do undercover and these cowards would just blow your cover. Rogers knows the building best, anyway. Take him and save us all the headache.” _

Which led to the moment at hand. Peggy and Steve were getting ready for their mission in Ornstein's master bedroom. Both were still fully dressed, but Steve had to fix his purloined evening wear while Peggy battled with hers.  

"Is that a dress?"

Peggy huffed a soft laugh. “Remember that trunk Howard brought to the truck? It was full of things we may need, just in case.” She decided not to mention the lacy lingerie just her size, or the large package of condoms. She didn't want to know how Howard had gotten his hands on those little ‘surprises.’

“Including that?”

“This is a genuine Jean Dessés gold lamé evening gown. Howard 'recycled' it from one of his former... dates. He used it to smuggle me into a gala once, and never let me give it back.”

"It's pretty,” Steve answered agreeably. “You didn't want to keep it?

"I just never thought that at any stage of my life I would possess a £60 hand-me-down.”

“How much is that in American dollars?”

She frowned, making calculations. “About $250.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “ _ $250?! _ For a  _ dress?" _

Peggy's lips turned up at the corner. “You really need to learn more about women.”

Steve's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “I-I understand that. But there's a difference between knowing why it takes all night to set pin curls and another to see how someone could spend a small fortune they're going to forget in Stark's bed.” He whistled. “I don't think my Ma ever spent more than $5 on something, and that was her wedding dress when she married my Da in ‘17.”

"The dress was left in the back of his car, if Howard is to be believed.” She smiled down at him and put the dress down, reaching instead for her hairbrush. “Hold on a moment, Captain Rogers. How exactly do you know pin curls take all night to set properly?"

Steve snorted. “Dancing monkey, remember? I wasn't the only one doing tours.”

"Ahh,” she sighed. “I'd forgotten about your USO girls.”

"Not mine,” Steve said. “I still don't know how to get a girl, as Bucky would say, but I'm now aware of sixteen different ways to lose one.”

"Sixteen?” she laughed. 

"At least.”

“It sounds like an educational experience,” she said softly. 

“It was. They taught me to knit socks and put on their stage makeup. I think they all thought of me as their little brother.” He put down his shoes. “They’re good girls.”

“I'm sure they are.” She pulled her hair, sectioning it off and twisting strands together. “Have you heard from them since your tour disbanded?”

“Occasionally.” Steve walked over to her and plucked her pin from her fingers just before she could stab it into her scalp. He tucked it gently into the hair, and she frowned. 

“That's going to fall out,” she warned. 

“Hush. I know what I'm doing.” He twisted the next curl deftly into shape and motioned for her to pass him another pin. “Next.”

“I will have you know that I've successfully been grooming myself for 23 years,” she deadpanned, not giving it to him. 

“And I have done this enough times to know that it goes faster when someone else is doing it.” He held his hand out again, and Peggy gave in. “This needs to set. You can do your makeup in the meantime.”

“If this falls out, I’m sticking Barnes in the dress and you two can do reconnaissance.” He just laughed. “You didn't finish telling me about your girls. You ever ask one to dance?”

“No way,” he argued. “Too scary.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So your woman wouldn't be intimidating?” Her heart started pounding as the small tease slipped out, and she fought to keep her breathing even.

Even though their conversation was starting to tread into dangerous waters, her comment made him laugh. “If I had a girl, she would be the scariest thing to walk the earth.” He made eye contact with her through the mirror and the expression of thrall on his face made her look away. “That doesn't mean that the girls weren't scary in their own way,” he continued, as if nothing had happened. “One time Darlene—she was this firecracker from Cincinnati, you would have liked her—she was upset that no men were allowed in the dressing room. It wasn't a rule anybody followed, because I was usually helping them get ready anyway, but the manager still tried to enforce it. Darlene had a sweetheart who followed the show, and she tried to get him past the manager one time…”

The way Steve lit up as he talked made her smile, and the story about stealing Steve’s show costume and trying to pass off a 5’6” man as him nearly made her fall off her stool. That story led to her telling him about the first time her brother brought a girl home to meet their parents, and Steve talked about how Mrs. Barnes had threatened him and James with the local priest the first time James had kissed a girl, back in second grade. 

“I thought Becca was gonna become an only child,” Steve wheezed between words, and Peggy was too far gone to respond. She tried in vain to stem her tears of laughter, but her mascara was hopelessly ruined. “Bucky looked ready to puke and all I was thinking was, ‘don't mention CeeCee, don't mention CeeCee—”

“CeeCee as in Priscilla Walsh, your girl in second grade?”

“Oh my god!” Peggy gasped for air as Steve whirled around so fast he fell. Barnes was looking at them as if they'd both lost their minds, and it only made her laugh harder.  _ “I can't breathe!” _

“Great job, Rogers. Asphyxiate your girl so she knows what your asthma felt like. Man with a plan, my ass.” He helped Steve to his feet and shook his head at both. “I came ‘cause there's another truck of soldiers at the Rathaus and they're setting up shop. Thought you two would want to see it.”

“You go ahead,” Peggy said, motioning to her hair. “Just try to be inconspicuous.”

“Good luck with that,” Barnes muttered before all but shoving Steve out the door. “Don't keep your dame waiting,” he called after him, earning a garbled curse and an erect finger in reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky dragged Steve to the World's Fair back in New York, so you know he likes science at least a little. I also wanted him to interact with Howard. I always had this headcannon for Steve speaking Gaelic, and Bucky did not want to be left behind. I know the translations are poor at best (thanks, Google), so if anyone speaks Gaelic (Irish? Google confused me), PLEASE let me know. 
> 
> What do you think is gonna happen next? *dances* I'm so excited, but heads up: the rating is gonna go up for the next chapter *cackles wildly and returns to class*
> 
> And on a side-note: you know how long I spent researching currency values from the 40s compared to now? Too long. I have a fucking laundry list of primary sources on that dress conversation alone. You don't even want to know how many days (yes, literal days) it took me to research the whole Rathaus thing; I know it's not going to be as historically accurate as I would like, but what can I say? I'm a biotechnology major.


	4. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy is finishing getting ready for the mission. Bucky uses it as an opportunity to have a little talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a liar on all accounts. The next chapter will be the actual mission... Bucky wouldn't let me go until he had a little talk with Peggy.

“So, how many languages do you know, Agent Carter?”

Peggy had wondered how long it would be before Barnes started talking. She’d finished her hair and makeup, and proceeded to keep her hands busy by cleaning her pistol and guns. Barnes had sat down across her in the bedroom and did the same with his rifle. Steve had come back, but she’d declined joining him downstairs. Barnes’d had a look about him that said more than he’d wanted, and she’d just been waiting for him to start speaking. “A few.”

“English and German. Italian, I guess?”

“English, German, Russian, French, Spanish, Italian, I can read a bit of Latin but I can’t speak it.”

“Damn,” Barnes whistled. “And Irish?”

So that was what they had been yelling at each other. “Gaelic? Not a lick.”

Barnes stuck his head out of the doorway. “Stevie!”

“What?”

 _“Mura bhfuil tú pósadh do chailín, beidh mé.”_ [If you don’t marry this girl, I will.]

 _“Go hifreann leat!”_ [Go to hell.]

 _“Trasna ort féin!”_ [Go fuck yourself.]

“Jerk!”

“Punk!” Barnes answered, returning to the room.

Peggy laughed all through their exchange. “Do I want to know?”

“All flattering, I promise.” He took his rifle back up. “Steve and I, our mothers are Irish. Well, both his parents were; my old man was Italian.”

“Do you speak any?” she asked. “It could help us deciphering—”

He shook his head. “He ran out on us after Becca was born. Kinda wanted to keep my distance from him growing up, so I refused to learn any. By the time I thought learning more languages would come in handy, I was too old to learn.”

“One is never too old to learn, James,” she said, thinking of her brother, God rest his soul. “I learned almost everything I know after the war started.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No. I had been…” Ingenuous? Vapid? Naïve? “Let’s say I’m very glad I chose to enlist.”

“Better woman than me.”

“Yes, I don’t think stockings would be a good look for you,” she teased.

He laughed, a sound that rarely happened out of Steve’s presence. “I mean enlisting.”

“You were drafted?” She didn’t know why she was surprised. It wasn’t unusual, but given Steve’s passion for the war effort, she expected Barnes to think along the same lines.

“Shocking, right?” He grinned, but there was little warmth in it. “Me and Steve was living together, barely making rent some months with the way he got sick. I was worried that if I left…”

Peggy wanted to reach over, assure him that he wasn’t weak for thinking so, but something in Barnes’ demeanor told her that it wouldn’t be a good idea. “I wager he was ecstatic,” she said instead.

Barnes cackled. “Fucking furious,” he laughed. “I told him I wasn’t going to do it, gonna run away to Canada or something stupid like that. Punk sat me down and gave me the longest lecture I’d ever gotten from anyone, even the priests. Coulda made me wanna track down Hitler singlehanded after that. ‘is Captain voice? Not somethin’ ‘e grew after joinin’, I’ll tell ya that much.” He looked down at his hands, reminiscing.

“Nice accent there, Sarge.”

He chuckled. “Your is pretty decent too, Director.”

She faked a gasp and brought her hands to her chest. “Do you really mean that, Bucky?” she said breathlessly, in her best American accent.

_“Jesus Christ!”_

The look on his face made Peggy burst into laughter.

“Don't do that!” he cried. “It's creepy as hell!”

“Too reminiscent of all your women back home?”

“It was more the accent and you calling me ‘Bucky,’ but yeah, that too. Although all my dates knew what they were getting into.”

“Mm-hm. So there were no broken hearts?”

He chuckled, but the sound quickly died. “Speaking of broken hearts…”

She hummed when he stopped, but kept cleaning her gun. They worked in silence for a while.

“He's the closest thing I have to a brother.”

“You're the only family he has left,” she answered.

“You're the first woman that has ever really paid any attention to him before,” he said quietly.

“I find that hard to believe. Steve’s…”

“I know.” He smiled. “Not a lot of people bothered when he was…”

“Skinny Steve?”

“But you met him like that.”

The memories she had of pre-serum Steve—running the obstacle course, attempting pushups, taking down the flag down from the flagpole—raced through her head. “I did.”

“You're not playing with him, are you? You get that he's head over heels for you?”

“The feeling’s mutual.” At his sharp inhale her hand sprung up, gun at the ready. “If you tell him anything, Barnes, I swear to god—”

“No!” He tried to look worried, but instead he looked like the war had suddenly ended. “No, I won't. But you really—”

“I don't… We need to survive the war, first. And we… We live on opposite sides of the Atlantic, he's Irish, I'm British—”

“Hey!” He dropped his gun and grabbed her hands, ignoring her pistol still between them. “None of that. You love him.”

“I…”

“It's ok if you're not ready. The war will keep for a while. But you need to tell him. There's no promise that everyone survives this.”

There was a manic glint to his eyes, but Peggy could only feel that it made him more honest. “You're a ray of sunshine Barnes, you know that, don't you?”

“Bucky. You're in love with my best friend, you call me Bucky. Or James,” he amended at the look she gave him.

“Barnes, if you tell anyone—”

“I'm a dead man walkin’ I know.” He beamed at her. “You know the same goes for you, right? You break his heart, I'll put a bullet between your eyes a mile away.”

She would be a bit more worried if he weren't still smiling like a loon. “Understood.”

Steve chose that moment to stick his head through the door. “Are you ready for—” he cut himself off. “Buck, whatcha doin’?”

“Your girl’s got soft hands,” Barnes… _James_ smirked, running his hands over Peggy’s. “She refuses to tell me her secret.”

“Some mysteries should be left for the fairer sex,” Peggy said, slowly pulling her hands back. “Wouldn’t be fair for _James_ to have soft hands in addition to the rest of his… charm.”

Steve gave James a look that made the older man grin. “Bucky—”

“Don't worry, pal. We're good.”

Steve looked over at Peggy, silently asking her to confirm it. She rolled her eyes. “Don't feel the need to discipline your man, Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barnes was helping me with my accents. I can never get New Jersey.”

“Easy,” Barnes smiled. “It's all in the nose,” he said, taking on the accent.

“You mean like this?” Peggy said, very badly.

“That was horrible. Ok, now try again, but it needs to be more nasal. It’s _Jersey,_ Peggy. They ain't as refined as us Brooklyn boys.”

Steve seemed to lose some of his wariness as Peggy and James parlayed back and forth. Eventually they managed to shoo him away, saying he needed to get ready for the mission.

Peggy and James had finished and both were clearing their guns away when James caught Peggy’s attention again. “Hey Peg?” he asked quietly, peering at the doorway. “One last thing.”

“Going to give me a proper shovel talk?” she mused.

“Remember this phrase, ok? _'Is breá liom tù."'_

Peggy wanted to tease him about teaching her, of all people, any Irish, but the look of seriousness on her face made her repeat it soberly. _“Is breá liom tù.”_

He had her whisper it over and over again until she was able to say it perfectly. “Good. Promise you won’t forget it?”

“Are you going to tell me what it means?” she asked. “Or to whom I should be saying it?”

“You'll know,” he said. He attempted to be mysterious, but there was a happy sort of acceptance to his words. “Now go get dressed. You and Stevie will be late.”

“Not if our chauffeur isn’t.”

“Chauffeur… _what?”_

 

* * *

 

The Rathaus was very large; Peggy had noticed it on her surveillance walks around the building. But it hadn’t seemed as impressive as it did that moment. The building was lit up like daytime, with music flowing through all the windows and doors as car after car pulled up to the main entrance. Women in fur coats and men in full regalia walked the long stretch of stairs up to the main doors, and Peggy found herself regretting her high-heels.

“Wow,” Steve whispered beside her.

“German, remember?” she hissed. “James, remember the plan?”

“Not much of a plan,” he muttered, fighting to keep his fingers from scratching his head. The driver they had kidnapped— ahem, _relocated—_ had been smaller than James, and more so in the cap area. “Stupid plan, is what it is. What if you need an extraction? How’s we getting in there?”

“There is no extraction plan,” Peggy reminded him for the umpteenth time. “When we get all the intel, we ping you with Howard’s tracker and you pick us up. If you don’t hear from us, give it two days and then return to camp.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Steve and James chorused, although for very different reasons.

“You’re great, Carter, but I’ll coming back for the punk if you get captured.”

“We’re not gonna get captured,” Steve pressed. “It’s a good plan.”

“Because you came up with it?” James snapped, reaching the entryway.

“Because I did,” Peggy said. She wrapped her coat around herself. “We’ll signal you.”

“But—”

“Do as Peggy says,” Steve warned before the car door opened. Steve stepped out and held his hand out for Peggy, helping her get out.

The weather was horrible, but they were quickly inside. They turned in their coats and Steve made sure to slip the tracker— hidden inside a lighter—into his jacket pocket. They followed the flow of people into a large ballroom, overflowing with music and food and guests. Peggy had been expecting it, and so showed no reaction, but Steve clearly needed practice.

 _“Now what?”_ he asked her quietly, his German not nearly as terrible as she had expected.

 _“We mingle,”_ she said. _“We dance, we drink, and then we fondue.”_

Steve’s ears burned, but she was glad that she had insisted on making it their codeword. They could hardly call it ‘ransacking,’ now, could they?

_“We can make it to midnight, right?”_

_“Of course, darling,”_ she answered, reaching for a flute of something bubbly as it passed. _“Of course.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaelic is in Italics, with the translation in brackets. Any guesses what the final phrase was?
> 
> So many kudos! *dances*


	5. Public Displays of Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and Steve look for proof of the Italians and Germans working together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVELY READERS AND COMMENTERS AND KUDOERS!!! I was going to have this chapter up on the weekend or Monday, but then I got some bad news about one of my classes and had to take a couple of days for existential crisis management (shout-out to the Phandom, if you get that reference). You have no idea how much you help me when that read counter goes up another digit. If I could bake you digital cookies, I would *sends hugs instead*. Since I can't, here's the next chapter!
> 
> Yes, the name of the chapter comes from Natasha's 'evasive maneuvers' in Captain America: Winter Soldier, but it was too good a line to resist. You'll know what I mean...
> 
> The rating is changed to M (again, you'll see why). Enjoy!

Peggy didn’t know about Steve, but she was enjoying herself. They mingled, as promised; here, they were Herr and Frau Dietrich, lately of Vienna. Herr Dietrich was very formal and stiff, not the most talkative of men, but his wife was a social butterfly, talking to everyone and anyone she could, turning all questions about her and her husband on her ‘new friends,’ who suspected nothing of her gathering as much gossip as she could to bring back to base. 

She’d just filed away a juicy tidbit about the gambling debts of one of the Fuhrer's main commanders when the clock hit eleven. Everyone started talking and laughing, eager to celebrate the new year. Steve caught her eye, and she nodded subtly. Within minutes, she started blinking heavily, reaching up to touch her head, stumbling a bit once or twice… all in all, exhibiting every sign of feeling under the weather.

Herr Mehler noticed first.  _ “Oh dear, are you feeling alright?” _

_ “I’m sorry,”  _ Peggy frowned, leaning against Steve.  _ “I’m suddenly not feeling so well.” _

Frau Thiessen flitted around her like a mother hen— not an image her physical form dissuaded.  _ “My dear Margrit, you don’t look well.” _

_ “If I could just sit down a moment, I think I’ll be—” _

_ “Nonsense,”  _ Thiessen said.  _ “You need some rest. Aloisia, let her use your room.” _

_ “Of course, of course,” _ Fraulein Himmler said immediately.  _ “Let me get someone to take you.” _

_ “It’s fine,”  _ Peggy said.  _ “I don’t want to take you away. The new year is so close by.”  _ She faked another misstep.  _ “Stephan can take me, we can find it.” _

A bit more talking, and Steve was ‘helping’ Peggy ascend the stairs to the topmost floor, key in hand. “How do we know Kruger’s office will be up here?” he asked in English.

“Paranoia,” she answered. “It’s as far away from the ballroom as possible.” Steve looked so impressed she had to come clean. “Also, I bribed one of the maids yesterday.”

“Smart,” he smiled. 

“Don’t look so surprised.” She followed the maid’s directions, peering carefully around each corner before walking out. She was glad for the practice, because she quickly whirled her head back from the last one. “Damn.”

“Paranoia?”

“Paranoia.” She took a moment to remember what she’d seen. “Single guard. He looks pretty fresh. He may have just started his shift.”

“I can take care of him,” Steve said.

“Not before he alerts someone else,” she said. 

“So…”

She opened her purse and fished out her mirror. “Plan B.” She swiped Howard’s lipstick over her lips, careful to place it over the one she already wore. “Go back to the last floor. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Howard had been quite proud of his invention. It has started out as an offhand compliment about Peggy— _ Peg's a total knockout. Wait, a knockout. I’ve got it!— _ and developed into a knockout-drug lipstick. _102_ _ Sweet Dreams  _ was still a prototype, since she'd refused Howard’s offer to let him be the guinea pig. 

Steve eyed the lipstick with a strange expression on his face. “Are you sure that’s gonna work?”

“We like to test our tech in the field, remember?” She waited for him to disappear from sight before making her way to the guard.

The man looked to be barely older than her, and he spotted her immediately.  _ “You’re not supposed to be here, madam.” _

_ “I’m sorry,” _ she said softly, peering up at the guard through lowered eyelashes.  _ “I think I’m lost.” _

_ “What are you looking for?” _ he asked, lowering his weapon. 

Perfect.  _ “Fraulein Himmler allowed me use of her room. I’m afraid the drinks downstairs disagreed with me, and I need to lie down.” _

The guard looked around. The hallway was empty. He shouldered his gun and extended an arm to her.  _ “Permit me to show you to the room.” _

Peggy thanked him and when they reached the room, she unlocked it. The man turned to leave when she rose to her tiptoes and pressed her lips to the his. He tried to pull away, but Peggy took his hands and cupped her breasts. She licked slowly into his mouth, biting down gently on his lip, inviting him to kiss her back. It took the stunned man a moment to respond, but he did, tugging her lower lip into his mouth and nibbling tenderly along her skin. A small taste of her own lipstick made Peggy feel a bit faint, and she leaned into him. The guard caught her in his arms, drawing her close and stepping into the room. 

Despite him being a Nazi sympathizer, and someone Peggy would easily kill without remorse if it came down to it, she found herself enjoying the soft, tender kiss. She almost felt sorry when his knees buckled and he fell unconscious. She got the man into bed, tied him up securely, and wiped her lipstick from his mouth. She fed him a little extra, just to ensure he stayed down as long as possible, and went to signal Steve. 

He reached her side in moments, giving her an odd look, and they walked nonchalantly back up to the fifth floor. Peggy used the guard’s keys to open the door of Kruger’s office. 

“Oh, bloody Norah.”

“Damn.”

The room was full to bursting; bookshelves and cabinets lined the walls, and they were overflowing with paper, much like the desk was with folders and files and loose sheafs of paper. Steve locked the door behind them as Peggy sighed and put her hair up with a stray pencil. “Remember what we’re looking for?”

“Photographic memory, remember?”

“Arse.” She spied a clock hidden under a stack of electrical system diagrams. “We have about ninety minutes before the change of guard.”

Steve started working his way through a bookcase. “And how long until the guard wakes up?”

“Ten minutes, according to Howard. I fed him a very large dose, but he’s gagged, so even when he wakes up he won’t be able to call for help.”

They worked in silence for a while, until Steve started talking. “So you, uh, kissed him?”

“No, Rogers, I asked him if he enjoyed being tied up in the bedroom. It turns out he quite liked it.”

“Sorry for asking,” he said, his voice suddenly gruff. He found a handkerchief and passed it to her. 

Peggy looked into the window and saw her lipstick smeared all over her mouth. She wiped the mess off with a sigh and moved on to the desk. “What does it say about my personal life that the best kiss I’ve had in the last few years came from a Nazi?”

“I’m in no position to judge,” Steve said. “I’m still waiting for the right partner, remember?”

She hummed noncommittally, remembering Lorraine. 

“It means you’re a professional; you’re dedicated to the war effort.” 

His answer appeased her a bit, but she couldn’t help a small parting shot. “He  _ was _ a sweet kisser. I wouldn’t mind having to put him under again.” She turned around and saw Steve frowning at her. She winked and smiled when the frown turned into an exaggerated pout.

Peggy worked through the files as quickly as she could, barely skimming a page before going to the next one, trying to find the evidence they were looking for. A few documents made her curious, and rather than spending precious time trying to decipher the encoded papers, she simply folded them and stuffed them into her brassiere. She made a mental note to beware papercuts.

Midnight sounded, and the floors underneath exploded with sound. Peggy only spared a glance at the clock, no, absolutely not, definitely not thinking about celebrating the new year with Steve, of course not, focus on the task at hand, Carter, damn it. 

Their self-imposed time limit was almost up when Steve whispered to Peggy, “I think I found them.” Peggy looked over and saw him leafing through a stack two inches thick. “Italian. Something tells me you’re not going to fit these where you put the other ones.” 

She slapped his shoulder and skimmed through. “Steve, these are communications between Kruger and someone named… Fisco?”

“That can’t be a real name.”

She ignored him and pushed through the papers. “Logistics, gossip— ooh, it has to be a new code, I don't recognize… Here it is. Communications about—”

She stopped and whirled to Steve. “How much can you memorize?”

“A lot.”

“Ok, as much as you can,” she said, leafing through the stack again. She pulled out certain pages, and Steve focused intently on each paper before moving on to the next.

Peggy took the potentially new codes and stuffed them into her dress until there was no more room. She was trying to find a way to hide the papers in her bag when Steve’s head popped up. The action was not unlike that of a golden retriever, and Peggy had to swallow an inappropriate giggle at the imagery. “Footsteps,” he whispered.

She was already throwing all the papers back into place. “Can we get out the door?”

Steve shook his head. “They're coming. I can take them out, I think.”

“Subtlety, Captain.” Peggy sing-songed, prying open the window and looking down. “There's a balcony two floors down. Can you land without making noise?”

He put away the rest of the papers and joined her. “No, but I can climb down.”

“Do it.”

“What about you?”

“Trust me. Go.”

The footsteps were close enough that even she could hear them, and Steve climbed out the window. He quickly lowered himself down to the balcony and motioned to her the all-clear. There were voices with the footsteps, and she could just make out the moment they realized the guard was gone. She took off her heels and climbed out of the window, standing at the edge of the ledge.

“Peggy!”

She threw her shoes and bag down to him. He caught them easily, which boded well for the next part of her plan. The doorknob tried and failed to turn and angry German voices shouted through the wood.  _ Time’s up.  _ It took a couple of heart-stopping moments to force the window closed behind her, and she nearly slipped off the ledge, but she got the window closed. 

“Ready?” Steve hissed. 

The door slammed opened and Peggy jumped. 

There was a small surge of adrenaline, like whenever she jumped from a plane, before strong arms caught her. Her feet barely grazed the wooden floors before they raced down the hallway. Peggy reached into her bag for her mirror, and they checked each corner before finally making it down to the third floor. 

Steve took a quick look around.  _ “Shit.” _

“Word spread fast,” she muttered, tugging on her heels. 

Officials were walking up and down the ballroom, slowly working their way through the crowd. They were searching through bags and coats, and more than one person was escorted out of the room. The only exit they could use without attracting attention was the main one. 

The main exit right across the ballroom. 

Peggy giggled and fell into Steve, maneuvering his arm around her waist so slyly Steve didn't notice until she'd turned them back up the stairs and down a less crowded hallway. He grabbed a bottle of champagne off the platter of a waiter, just in case he needed to hit someone, before pulling up against the wall, and he bent down to whisper in her ear. “They split into groups; it's only a matter of time before they find us.”

Peggy threw her head back and fit it into the groove of his neck. Her throat was exposed and in a fit of Bucky-esque suavity, Steve peppered her skin with butterfly-soft kisses. _ “Darling,”  _ Peggy sighed, running her fingers down his jaw, nails trailing down his fake beard, leaving behind tingling aftershocks. “We’ll have to wait them out. We can't outrun them,” she hissed into his ear. “Unless we’re fast about stealing weapons, we can’t outgun them, either.”

"You know what you said about public affection?” he whispered.

A real grin graced Peggy's features as a group of green uniforms formed at the far end of the hallway. “Man with a plan, my dear?"

"Just for my best girl.” The words flowed easily from Steve's lips, and he barely had time to cringe over the slip before Peggy's fingers laced through his own.

"Then execute it, Captain Rogers.”

The soldiers started walking down the hallway, but their attention was drawn to a drunk man shouting in the corner. Steve took the opportunity to guide them with their joined hands and pushed them towards the wall, boxing Peggy between the wallpaper and his own body, feigning intimacy. She settled easily into the space between his legs, and freed one of her hands to bury itself into Steve's hair. One hand still held the champagne, so he rested it gently against Peggy's side; he used his other hand to pin her free hand over her head, against the wall. She rubbed herself against his body, simulating eagerness that Steve fought hard not to emulate. She drew his head down to hers, and in the blink of an eye her mouth was pressed to his, stone still. The sudden move made Steve stiffen, in more ways that one, and he pressed her harder into the wall. The bottle dropped from his suddenly limp fingers, and his hand went down to her waist, pulling her closer against him. A quick glance to his left showed that the soldiers had left the lush and were coming closer. 

Steve caught Peggy's eye, and with a final deep breath she closed her eyes and parted her lips. Steve's own eyes fluttered shut and he let himself fall into Peggy's kiss, making a mess of lips and tongue and mingled breath that came together with a small laugh and escaped moans, and Steve didn't know if Peggy was pretending, but she was a  _ great _ kisser and the moans that spilled from his own mouth were all-too-real. He felt himself relax into her, bracing himself against the wall so he could press her into it harder, letting his hands leave her waist to roam over other parts of her body. His teeth took her bottom lip between them, making her hiss and drop her hands to his shoulders, tangling in the cloth of his suit. Her nails raked deep lines into his scalp, and he felt her leg start trailing up his own. In a flash, he drew her knee up to his waist and press himself against her. Her skirt fell up her thigh and his bare fingers touched stockinged skin, drifting upward of their own accord until he had his hand on her full, silk-covered bottom, and  _ squeezed _ . He would owe her a massive apology later, because there was no disguising his arousal, especially when she let him move his mouth from her lips to her neck and he ground his hips against hers  _ hard _ and the noise that she made when he—

_ "Hey! What are you doing?” _

Steve was brought back by a very harsh yank, and he had fought to focus his eyes on the face of a very irate guard.  _ “Celebrating the new year,”  _ he said, in his best German accent, his erection quickly falling away.

_ “Not in here,” _ he answered, one hand reaching for his waist.  _ “Who are you?” _

_ “We’re sorry,”  _ Peggy said quickly.  _ “We got carried away when midnight struck.”  _ She panted, trying to catch her breath, and the action drew the guard’s attention to her chest. She pushed her hair over her shoulder before reaching out and resting a hand lightly on the man’s arm.  _ “Can you forgive our little indiscretion?” _

The guard’s attention was buried in her cleavage, but he still sounded flustered as he answered,  _ “I need to check your bag, Miss.” _

_ “Oh? Is that all you need to check, sir?”  _ Peggy giggled and handed over her purse.

_ “Unless you’re hiding something?” _ He tried to sound gruff, rifling through her things, but the way he was standing made it clear that he was flirting with her.

She spread her arms and twirled around.  _ “Hiding something where?”  _ A cheeky grin disguised the way her toes ground on Steve’s. She shot his a look and he glared at the guard.

_ “Finished?”  _ Steve snapped, drawing his attention away from Peggy.

The guard glared and returned Peggy’s purse. He reached into the pockets of Steve’s jacket, pulling out the tracker. He frowned when that was the only thing he found. He flicked it open, and the flame popped out.

_ “A lighter without cigarettes?” _

Steve glared, not understanding the words, and Peggy quickly stepped in.

_ “You lost the cigarette case? I gave you that for your birthday!”  _ She crossed her arms and glared at him.  _ “Idiot.” _

_ “He is, if he’s making such a beautiful woman mad at him.”  _ The guard smiled at her.

Peggy smiled back, and Steve understood enough to bend over for the bottle of champagne and snatch her hand.  _ “Move,”  _ he snapped.

Peggy rolled her eyes.  _ “Fine.”  _ She grinned back at the guard.  _ “Maybe I’ll see you later?” _

_ “Somewhere more private?” _

Steve shoved the man out of his way and dragged Peggy behind him. The guard stayed on that level, and they descended the stairs without a problem. Once they were out of his sight, Steve slipped the bottle into a random man’s hand and walked calmly to the entrance of the building, Peggy striding sedately at his side. She ordered their coats, and while they waited Steve clicked the lighter three times. By the time they were out the front door, James was waiting for them. 

They got into the car without drawing any undue attention, and James started the long drive back to the safe-house. Once they were sure there were no tails on them, he relaxed into the seat and looked at them through the rearview mirror. “Did you two crazy kids have fun?”

“It was more satisfying than we thought,” she beamed. 

“I’ll say. You may wanna wipe that satisfaction from your mouths before we get back, or Edwards is going to think he missed out.” He cackled as Peggy and Steve blushed, scrambling for something to rid themselves of the bright red lipstick smeared across their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely frightenedlobster for correcting my Gaelic last chapter. It has been fixed!
> 
> I will try to update before Friday! Your comments make me write faster! I am also open to suggestions, since my writing process is more fluid than most.
> 
> Yes, I realize writing feels like this means I will need to update Mr. Carter and Mrs. Rogers-- it's gonna be an interesting process...


	6. Kiss Me Goodnight, Sargent Major

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Peggy after the aftermath of the mission at the Rathaus. Steamy-ish stuff ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a liar who promises to post and never does. My heart goes out to anyone still reading this, and I am so sorry. Here is the chapter!

They had returned from the Rathaus riding their victory high. James pulled a bottle of scotch from the kitchen cupboards and they’d celebrated the new year and their success. Peggy wanted to start looking over the papers right away, but it would take Steve hours to transcribe the documents he’d memorized and that was a task better suited for the military base. So she partook in the libations James had liberated, and enjoyed the show as Edwards and Wick got steadily drunker and drunker.

The alcohol didn’t seem to have an effect on Steve, which made James tease him about his serum until Peggy threatened to send him flying across the room again. He quickly shut up after that. Peggy had a happy buzz going by the time Wick finally collapsed into the couch and started snoring. Edwards was already down for the count and James had been swallowing yawns for a solid hour. “I think you two can hold down the fort,” he smirked, hauling Wick up the stairs. Steve followed with Edwards over his shoulder. “I think we’re all gonna sleep like the dead, so if you want to take turns keeping watch…” He added something in Irish, and laughed as Steve punched him in the ribs and shoved him up the stairs. “Wake me for my shift!”

Peggy chuckled softly at the men, wondering when, over the course of the last year, they had stopped being ‘Howlers’ in her mind and became ‘her boys’ instead. She was sure her brother was to blame; Michael was probably laughing at her from heaven, telling her she’d brought the entire thing on herself for being so headstrong as a girl. Peggy sniffed at herself for getting sentimental, but her mind wandered, back to the mission they’d just completed. She could still feel the burn of Steve’s lips against her own, the press of his body against her own, his hands trailing up her thighs and the burn of his fake beard on her neck. She allowed herself a moment to breathe in the memory, feel the passion that had blazed between them… “Stop it, Carter,” she scolded herself, opening her eyes. “You’re mooning.”

She gathered up the empty tumblers and set them in the sink, letting the menial task of cleaning up clear her mind. It didn’t work very well, so she decided to work on what papers she’d been able to recover. Peggy found a pencil and translated emphatically, frowning at the lack of overt code in some of the papers. She was so lost in concentration, that she didn’t realize Steve was back in the room until he cleared his throat.

“Steve!” She dropped her pencil in surprise, cursing herself mentally for getting flustered. Steve had changed into his own clothes again, and Peggy felt the ostentatiousness of her gown more than ever.

“Uh… hi?”

She looked down at the mess in front of her. “I just wanted to get some work done,” she said sheepishly.

_“Oh!”_ He all but rammed into the coffee table in his hurry to reach her. “Did you want me to—”

“No, no, it’s fine—”

“Because I can, I just—”

“I can wait, you don’t—”

Awkwardness descended along with silence, leaving them both staring at each other.

Peggy saw the way Steve’s fingers twitched, a sign that he wanted something in his hands to feel less helpless; she knew she was digging her nails into her palm, her own version of the same nervous tell. She could feel the tension in the room, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Their easy camaraderie, always bordering on flirtation and just a hint of laughter, was nowhere to be found, and she hated it.

Steve broke the quiet first. “Uh… do you want to talk about it?”

Peggy cleared the papers on the seat beside her and motioned for him to sit.

He plopped down heavily, hands iron fists in his lap. “I want to apologize,” his words came out in a rush. “It was disrespectful of me to do that to you back at the Rathaus, I wasn’t thinking and I got carried away—”

She covered his hands with hers, cutting off his words. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Steve. That was the plan, remember? And I’m the one that made the first move.” She didn’t mention the thrill she’d felt when his hands were on her, or the way her knees had buckled when she’d felt how much he’d wanted her. It had been so long since she’d felt desired, truly desired, and as much as she felt it from Steve, feeling it confirmed even through her clothes was enough to make her breathing hitch.

“Still… it wasn’t proper, I just— I’m sorry.”

Peggy’s heart melted at the humility in Steve’s apology, and she couldn’t help herself. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Steve,” she said, suddenly shy. She stood up and gathered the loose papers on the table, only to put them down again. “I… Do you want to take first watch? Or I will. Or we both can, I know it will be sunrise soon, but we need to remain vigilant.”

Steve rubbed at the soft mark she had left on his cheek. “I can take first watch. You look like you need to get out of that dress.”

“You offering to help me, soldier?” she answered automatically, wincing at her coquetry.

He blushed, but met her eyes, and Peggy felt their bond waking back up again. “Always ready to offer my assistance to a damsel in distress.”

“I don’t know about distress,” she said, suddenly bold, as she turned around so her back was to him, “but I could use a bit of help with the zipper.” She didn’t know what was wrong with her, she’d just been thinking about how awkward they’d been just a moment ago and now she was presenting herself to him like a hussy, what an—

Her thoughts trailed off when his hands came to rest at her waist, turning her just a bit to the side. His fingers gently moved her deflated hair to the side, leaving him easy access to the zip at her back. The dress was cut as low as its front, and Steve seemed to take that as an invitation, because his hands traced slowly down her bare skin before getting to the pull of the zipper. He’d barely grabbed it when a flash of realization shocked Peggy into turning around. “Actually, this might be better suited for upstairs.”

She saw his mouth drop open, and when he realized she was leading him to the room that had served as her bedroom, he choked on his words, protesting about not taking advantage of her and similar sentiments. “It’s not that kind of invitation, soldier,” she said lightly, turning on a soft lamp next to her bed. “I just need some help with the zipper.”

She turned around again and Steve pulled it down perfunctorily, and his words died in his throat as the dress fell open to reveal smooth, pale, naked skin.

“You’re not wearing—”

“The dress doesn’t allow for it,” she said, holding the front of her dress up to her bare chest. It hung loosely from the shoulders, and Peggy wasn’t entirely certain she wasn’t giving Steve a show. “It seemed like a better idea to take this off up here.”

“Yeah,” Steve echoed, “up here.”

“Just in case anyone tried to peek in through the windows.” She smiled at his blush, knowing the kind of effect she was having on Steve. “Thank you for tonight,” she all but purred, surreptitiously walking Steve backwards toward the door. “It was a great night.”

“Just… just happy to do my duty,” he whispered as her face got closer and closer to his.

“I’ll finish getting undressed and take a kip,” Peggy simpered, hoisting up the dress just enough to bring Steve’s attention back down from her face. “Wake me up for my watch, Steve?”

“Uh.. yeah. Yes! Yes, I’ll just knock on your door—”

“Thank you, Steve.” She pressed another kiss, very, very lightly, to the corner of his mouth and pushed him back with a gentle nudge, closing the door on the sweetest expression she’d ever seen on his face.

 

* * *

 

She was supposed to sleep. She was exhausted, really. Peggy had been awake far too many hours to lay down and not pass out the moment her head touched the pillow.

But here she was, wide awake and frustrated. In more ways than one.

Normally, Peggy would take care of the pressing issue, or work it away in a nice spar with one of the soldiers on base. But right now, she had no sparring partner. She could also hear James and the Intelligence agents snoring though the paper-thin walls and Peggy was the furthest thing from quiet when it came to taking care of her needs. It wouldn’t do to wake someone up, or to draw Steve’s attention from downstairs.

So she finally settled for getting up and going to the bathroom, the luxurious robe Howard had stuffed into her trunk around her bare body. Ornstein had a clawfoot bathtub and running hot water, and her perfunctory wash preparing for the Rathaus’ celebration was the closest thing she’d had to bliss since she’d joined the SSR.

Peggy turned on the water and let it run until steam started filling up the room. It was a modern marvel that Ornstein’s pipes didn’t serenade her with bangs and clanks the way her parents’ house had. She forwent the harsh electrical lights, and instead lit the candles she was certain belonged to Mrs. Ornstein—thankfully absent, visiting her sister, according to their prisoner. She arranged all the products she could find within reach and settled in for her best bath since 1943.

The hot water calmed her mind, but the heat had the opposite effect on her body. Even after washing her hair and scrubbing her feet and steaming every pore of her skin open, the sensation of Steve’s hands on her body made her ache for release. She buried herself under the water, digging her fingers into the porcelain of the tub, fighting off the urge to pleasure herself.

What was wrong with her? She was a soldier. Fantasizing about another soldier. She was doing everything wrong if she was trying to prove herself as capable as any man. She just needed to keep her libido under control, lest she end up like Private Lorraine.  

Her mind laughed at her will to resist and started conjuring scenarios: the guards hadn’t stopped Steve and Peggy back at the Rathaus, leaving them to find Fraulein Himmler’s bedroom again; Steve not leaving after helping her disrobe, and instead following the plot of one particularly naughty book that had circulated through Bletchley Park; Steve walking in on her in the bath, and Peggy extending an open invitation to join her in the tub. It thrilled her to imagine her showing him exactly what she’d been thinking about him since the day she saw him at Camp Leigh, noise be damned. The thought made her sink down further into the water, and she finally stopped fighting, letting her hands leave the porcelain of the tub. They ran down the ivory of her body. One hand went up while the other went down, and Peggy almost cried in relief as her fingers sank into the willing heat between her legs. She pulled her legs up and over the sides of the tub, easing herself open and swallowing a moan. She was so ready it was almost embarrassing, and she started rutting up against her hand, chasing the pleasure she knew was just moments away, she just needed to push harder, just a bit more, and she pressed a hand over her mouth but it was no use, because the sound coming out of her was more than she could hold back. Her moans grew, matching the back and forth of the water hitting the porcelain and something sounded in the back of her head, but she was _so close_ —

“Peggy?”

She choked on the bathwater, curling up into a ball and diving under the last of the bubbles she’d poured in at the start.

“Peggy?”

_“Steve?”_

“Yeah, are you ok? I heard something.”

Her face burned brighter than all the candles around her combined, and she was sure she was reheating the water with the heat from her embarrassment. She searched wildly for an explanation and found the bottle of bubble bath broken on the floor. “I’m fine!” she called, trying to keep her voice level. “I knocked something over.”

“Are you ok?”

“Of course,” she said, urging her heartbeat to slow down. Steve was sure to hear it, even through the door. “I just fancied a bath. Sorry for disturbing you.”

“No, you didn’t, it’s just— sorry, I’ll leave you to your bath.”

She waited for the tread of his feet carrying him down the stairs, but she couldn’t hear anything past her racing heart. There was no way she was going to be able to finish herself off in the bath, and Peggy didn’t want to risk starting things back up again until Steve was asleep, so she drained the bath and cleaned up the mess she’d made, haphazardly wrapping her robe around her, tying it loosely at her waist. She opened the door and tripped over Steve hovering over the doorway. “Steve!”

She caught herself against his chest, and his hands went around her waist, dislodging the belt and her robe fell open, and his eyes automatically followed the motion down, taking in her naked body. She turned around and whipped the robe closed, inhaling sharply as Steve started stammering that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant to look, he didn’t see anything, not that there wasn’t anything, because she was quite beautiful, no, stunning, drop-dead gorgeous, no, sorry, so sorry—

Peggy tied the robe properly and turned to face Steve, quieting him with a single raised eyebrow. “Can I help you, Captain?”

“I’m sorry, I—”

All it took was a certain inflection on his name. _“Steve.”_

He shut his mouth and looked determinedly at her face. “I wanted to know if you wanted to switch shifts or if you wanted me to keep watch until morning.”

“I don’t skip my watches,” she said as primly as possible. “Why don’t you go downstairs and make some coffee? I’ll change and relieve you, so you can get some rest.”

“Of course.” He turned to go when Peggy cleared her throat.

“And Steve?”

He turned around again. “Yes?”

“You might want to take care of that before I come downstairs.” She left him looking down at his crotch as she sauntered past him to her room.

Inspiration returned to her, and she came quickly and for once in her life, quietly. Satisfied, she changed without incident, opening the door to a slightly pink Steve looking stymied, but more put together. “Coffee’s done?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good.” She grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and planted a kiss lecherous enough to make Private Lorraine uncomfortable, before pulling back and wiping a finger over the corner of her mouth. “Feel free to take my bed. Sweet dreams.” She didn’t bother looking at the stunned man behind her, instead going down the stairs and readying herself for some late night code-breaking.

 

* * *

 

Bucky opened his eyes, immediately awake and aware. Before the war, he’d never been a particularly early riser; he’d usually needed someone—meaning Steve—to wake him up for his pre-dawn shifts at the docks. After being taken at Azzano, he always woke up immediately. Third shift was easiest on his body, and he’d grown used to it; as much as he wanted to stay in a real bed and sleep in, his internal clock made his eyes open at five am.

He stood up and grimaced at the taste of death in his mouth. At least he’d been lucky enough to wake up without a hangover, he thought as he padded to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth with vigor, noting the way the running water echoed through the quiet house.  He had been expecting Steve to wake him for his watch shift, or maybe Carter to throw his pants at him and tell him to get his ass out of bed. He and Steve shared a bed, as did Wick and Edwards, but considering he’d woken up alone, that meant… Bucky shut off the water and stopped at the entrance to the bathroom, listening.

Silence.

A slow grin spread over his face, and he tiptoed to the main bedroom that Carter had been using. The door was unlocked, and he carefully eased it open, making no noise. His heart nearly burst through his chest as he saw Steve sleeping on his stomach, back bared toward the door, and curled over something under him.  

He pulled back and broke into a dance in the hallway. He’d known that Carter was a great dame, and Steve deserved only the best. He’d known something had been brewing between them since Steve had rescued him from Azzano and he’d seen the way he interacted with the agent, all smooth sass and awkward flirting; Carter herself had confirmed her feelings yesterday. He kept dancing, his mind racing to tiny tow-haired ankle biters crowding around their favorite Uncle Buck, and embarrassing Steve with speeches at his wedding, and finally seeing his best friend happy with someone who deserved him. Bucky was a bit surprised at Steve taking Carter to bed so soon, but he thought it over and realized it must have been the other way around. He remembered the red lipstick smeared all over the blond schmuck’s face last night, and the stupid grin on his face that refused to leave. They must have taken advantage of their privacy after the rest of them had passed out.

It would be a bad idea to interrupt the new lovers, but Bucky was Steve’s best friend for a reason. Besides, Peg was a class-A woman; she’d forgive him.

So Bucky slipped into the room, aimed, and threw himself onto the bed directly on top of Steve. Steve let out a yell and all but tossed Bucky into the wall, but with reflexes ingrained since the age of six, Bucky grabbed on and they wrestled into a sitting position, Bucky taking care to stay to the corner, but Steve had figured out that it was him and now instinct turned into revenge and Bucky had to defend himself from a very angry super-soldier picking up the pillow and he picked up another to defend himself and—

“What the hell is going on?!”

Both men froze and looked up to see a nonplussed Peggy staring down at them. Bucky looked around Steve and saw that instead of cuddling a woman, he’d been nuzzling a stack of pillows. “Uh…”

Her eyes took in the sight, and she leaned against the door-frame, a twinkle in her eye. “If you two want your, ah… _bedroom_ activities to stay private, you may want to be a little quieter.”

Steve stood up, protesting that Bucky was just being an asshole. Bucky laid down and put on his best simper. “Care to join?”

“You couldn’t handle me, Barnes,” she smirked, her eyes looking the still-shirtless Steve up and down. “Care to explain what you were doing in my room?”

“Not unless Stevie explains first.”

She rolled her eyes and made her way back downstairs. “Wake Wick and Edwards. It’s time to clear out, and someone needs to untie Ornstein.”

Steve whirled around and punched Bucky in the shoulder. “What the hell was that?”

“I thought you were making time with Peggy, so I decided to jump in” he said, laying back down. “She’s A-1, she would’ve laughed it off.”

“Buck—” Steve cut himself off with a groan, rubbing the bridge of his nose like when he used to get migranes. “Just… get out.”

“Nah, your girl’s got a nicer bed.”

“I was just sleeping in her bed. Peggy and I— there _is_ no Peggy and I.”

“Not with that attitude,” Bucky smirked. “Didn’t you two kiss yesterday?”

He turned a deep red that Bucky hadn't seen since Steve lost his virginity to Grace Walters. “For the mission.”

“She likes you, Steve, like you like her. You two should do something about that.”

“It’s called winning the war.”

“It’s called giving yourself blue balls.” Bucky sighed and got back up, scratching his head with a over-dramatic yawn. “But what do I know? Not like I know anything about women.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

***

The moment they reached the camp, all traces of teasing, flirty Peggy slipped away, leaving only the professional, competent Agent Carter. With smooth grace she commanded her men to unload the truck and set up their spoils in the Intelligence bunker. She checked in with her superiors on the way through the door: most would call her debrief rude; she preferred the term ‘perfunctory.’

Most of the agents from the SSR knew to not cross Agent Carter; those who didn’t quickly learned why she was nicknamed ‘the Director’.

Steve was quickly settled down with more ink and paper than he’d seen in his life and was ordered to prove his mental recall. He drew like a machine, pen passing over paper like a typewriter. He turned out page after page of Italian and German, which were quickly duplicated and distributed to the agents. Very different from the papers that Peggy had taken, Steve’s contained words that were, for the most part, innocuous; they were expense reports, bureaucratic processes, simple words with simple meanings. Just before they lost hope, Peggy noted that one of the papers had a very strange word order when describing the mode of transport of ship parts. Another agent noted the misspelling of the word for ‘houseplant.’ With that, they were off.

They all poured over the papers, translating every documents and comparing notes with other agents from Intelligence, trying to find possible code or cipher that could make sense of their purloined documents. The Howlers were to be on hand, ready to go the moment Intelligence found a destination, so the men found themselves grounded. In a funny turn of events, they found themselves playing secretary to the Intelligence team, typing out copies, getting files, and making more pots of war-front coffee than anyone ever needed to see. The term ‘all hands on deck’ was not one the army took lightly.

Peggy was the worst of them, refusing to trade shifts with another agent, and working herself into a frenetic, overwrought mess. Phillips and Steve were the only one able to talk her into the occasional nap, but they were only partially successful. Even Howard was unable to dissuade her from her task, and she got a very enthusiastic James to forcibly evict him from the tent when he messed up her cataloguing system.

Even after breaking through the coding system, it was a nightmare to understand the codewords and context that the Germans and the Italians had used. It was code wrapped up in mystery, wrapped up in more code and some extra nonsense for fun. Peggy had tried explaining the process to the Howlies, and only Duggan was kind enough to sit down with a whiskey bottle and listen to her rant. She grew so frustrated, she finally gave in to Howard’s suggestion that the papers made more sense drunk and helped Duggan polish off the bottle. When she started falling over—it was a toss-up as to the source, inebriation or insomnia—Steve carried her out to the fire next to the tent and forced her to eat something.

It was a testament of how exhausted she was that she ate it sitting in his lap.

It was a bigger testament of how well-feared she was that passing soldiers avoided eye-contact, letting her eat in peace.

“Peg, you’re gonna hurt yourself if you don’t get some rest,” Steve said gently, passing her another roll of bread as she devoured her meal.

“I need to understand what they’re saying,” she complained. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

“That’ll be sooner than you want if you keep pushing yourself.” James was an old hand at helping an obstinate person take care of themselves; he’d rubbed Steve’s nose in the irony. “You’re no help if you’re dead.”

“Phillips isn’t going to let you go on the mission if you’re exhausted,” Steve added, hugging her around the waist to keep her from slipping off. She snuggled up into him, making him send a stupid smile James’ way behind her head.

“I’m going, even if you have to smuggle me into the trucks,” she demanded, pouncing on another plate of beans James passed over. “I signed up for this war and I’m seeing it through to the end. _Alea iacta est.”_

“Even if they send us to Italy?”

“What, like we haven’t been everywhere else?” James pointed out. “I wish they would send us to southern Italy, or maybe Japan. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a beach that won’t freeze off my—”

“It’s the _European_ theater,” Peggy explained, “they’re not going to send us to Japan…” Her voice trailed off and her head snapped up. “I need my notebooks.”

She stormed into the tent, her boys on her heels, and a terrified Wick rushed to shove the books her way. “You found it?” Steve asked as she frantically flipped through the pages of tight, tidy script.

“I thought _alea_ was ‘hazard,’ but it wasn’t Italian, it was _Latin._ He’s making references to Caesar, and how his.. his dice have nothing on the Red Skull. That they’re grateful he didn’t draw so much attentions to Andautonia and— Aquileia.”

Barnes blinked. “I have no idea what you just said.”

“They’re the names of old Roman cities or military bases. Bloody hell, I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before.”

“There are a lot, and many aren’t recognizable, even to codebreakers,” Wick expounded.

“But not Peggy,” Steve said proudly.

“Don’t jinx it,” she half-sang, scanning down a list of names with her fingers. “The British may have conquered the world, but the Greeks and Romans did it first. We don’t know half the names of the cities they built, and finding records is a headache every time.”

They waited as she sucked in a breath. “Aquileia is still the name of the city. It’s in Udine, in Italy.”

“So that’s where they’re sending it.”

“Which means Andautonia is where they’re sending it from.... Yugoslavia.”

“Where?”

“Zagreb,” she answered, a wide smile spreading through her face. “They’re shipping from Zagreb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is helping me finish up Chapter 7 and then I will be revising Mr. Carter and Mrs. Rogers, so I can continue writing that! Fingers crossed this story is finished before the semester is out!


	7. Tá Grá Agam Duit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Howlers finally find the Hydra base they're looking for, but not everything goes according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys so much for sticking with me throughout the shitstorm that is my writing/non-posting schedule. My "midterms" are done, so I was gonna wait a while to post something, but after the mess of last night's election, I was ready to quit everything. Thankfully, Aenaria on Tumblr inspired me to put something positive back into the world. Thank you for the lovely Cynically_Yaris_XO for beta-ing. Here is the last chapter of this fic. Enjoy!

“Alright, one last time—”

“Cap, we’ve gone over this plan the entire route here,” Dum Dum complained. “If we don’t know it by now, we deserve to be shot in the ass.”

“Hey!” Pinky’s face matched his nickname, and everyone laughed. “That could happen to anyone!”

“No, it just happened to you,” Falsworth said, not skipping a beat. “How long were you on your stomach again?”

“Assholes, the lot of you.”

“Alright,” Steve said, trying to get everyone back under control. “If we’re ready then? Peg and Jim—” 

“On the north wall, we know,” Morita said. “Barnes and Jones on rifles—”

“Dugan and you on the west wall—” Peggy added.

“—and Sam and Junior on the scopes there,” James finished. “Can we get going or are we gonna set up camp and continue this tomorrow?”

Steve took a deep breath and sighed. “I know it’s good for morale, but couldn’t you find someone else to gang up on?”

“Edwards isn’t here,” Dum Dum grinned. 

Steve looked his team over one last time. “Stay alive. If any of you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Love you too, Stevie,” James winked Peggy’s way, who only gave him a two finger salute and walked down to her waiting point with Jim. Everyone got into position, leaving James looking at Jaques Dernier. “Ready for the bait?”

Dernier cackled and lifted a small bomb in each hand. 

“You’re crazy, Frenchie,” James said, motioning him to start down the hill. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Dernier answered that he took it as a complement and planted the bombs. He disappeared, and one minute later a loud boom shook the main entrance.The team watched as several guards ran to the explosion, and all the snipers lined up their scopes. 50 meters away, a sharp whistle split the air and the men dropped with quick shots through the head. 

Peggy and Jim ran down to the bodies, pulling up guns and bullets, and freeing the keys from one dead man’s grip. Peggy signaled with her mirror to Barnes, signing that they were ready to enter. She got a soft whistle in response, and turned to Morita. “Ready?”

He pulled up a rifle and cocked it. “Bet you I get more prisoners than you.”

“We’ll see.”

 

* * *

They rushed the compound, a strangely maze-like base with enough people to make taking it a challenge. Peggy enjoyed it, taking out the strange energy that had remained with her after the kiss incident with Steve. They still refused to talk about it, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. The Commandos cleared the compound quickly, taking as many prisoners as possible and putting bullets in the ones that refused to surrender. It wasn’t pretty, but Peggy had stopped doing pretty the moment her brother was declared killed in action. 

She was beating Jim with five prisoners more than him, and enjoying his petulant pout. They looked over their quarry, satisfied that they had most of the enemy down. Steve radioed in that it was time for a final sweep, and she left Jim with James, getting the prisoners secured into their own trucks while Dernier and Dugan prepared to blow the base to kingdom come. 

Peggy walked carefully and quickly through the base, checking that they’d gotten everyone out .

She never saw it coming. A man jumped out from behind a corner. He raised his rifle and Peggy took him down with a shot to the throat when two sharp, blooming pains exploded in her shoulder. She went down, managing to control her fall so she landed on her back, putting a bullet through her attacker’s eye. The hard, unforgiving concrete she fell on made her cry out in pain when it made contact with her shoulder, but the sound echoed through the empty hallway. It went undetected under the chaos of explosions, the foundation of the building shaking the ground under her. 

The boys had started destroying the base.

Peggy felt a sort of calm fall over her, more than likely from the shock. She could feel the hot blood leeching from her body and spreading through the floor around her, a source of warmth that soaked her uniform. In hindsight, she’d been stupid for going off on her own, but that’s what the plan called for. They were outnumbered enough that divide and conquer was the only way to go. She just hoped death would find her before any Nazi did. Something told her she would want to be dead for anything they came up with. Hopefully it wouldn't be too long. She was starting to get sleepy.

_ “Carter!” _

She didn’t know how long her eyes had been closed, and she struggled to open them again.

_ “Carter, where are you?!” _

Peggy wanted to shout at whoever woke her up, but her mouth didn’t want to move. Maybe they would leave her alone; she hadn’t slept well since the war broke out.

“Oh my god… get Sawyer!  _ Carter!”  _ Harsh hands yanked her eyelids open, and she stared up at Dugan. “Carter, come on, wake up. Somebody help!” he cried.

_ “Peggy!” _ That sounded like James, but Peggy couldn’t open her eyes to confirm it. “Is she ok?”

“Help me.” Hands grabbed her at her hips and shoulders, and she jerked as fire spread through her wound down her shoulder and back. She was suddenly on her stomach, and a painful pressure pushed down on her gunshots, making her gasp. 

“Come on, Carter, stay with me.” She recognized Sawyer’s voice, and then she was floating, floating, and landing on something too firm to be death. The sounds of killing around her died down, and a cold metal surface pressed her chest and abdomen into her spine. “More pressure, Barnes, come on.  _ Somebody find me a blood kit!” _

_ “What happened to ours?” _

“Grenade. Find a new one.”

“Come on, Peggy, you have to stay with us,” James hissed in her ear. 

_ “She’s still breathing?” _

“Get her wrapped up, she's going into shock.”

_ “Pinky, Gabe, blankets! Now!” _

“There’s too much blood, I’m putting pressure but—”

_ “I can’t find a blood kit here! There's no plasma!” _

“I’ll get the truck.”

“The truck it too far away, she’s not going to make it,” Sawyer snapped. “Find something to transfer blood. Make sure it’s clean.” Scissors cut her through her clothes with surgical precision, careful not to touch the skin as her uniform was peeled away. The pressure went away and returned with a vengeance, making Peggy open her eyes. 

She was in the laboratory she’d cleared on her round, and there were too many bodies around her, too high up to make sense, and she managed to realize she was on a table. 

“Where’s her tags?”

_ “They’re not on her neck?” _

“What’s wrong now?”

“What’s her blood type?”

_ “I don’t know.” _

She coughed, trying to wet her lips, and something hot and wet came from her mouth. The sharp, rusty tang told her it was more blood. 

_ “Peggy!” _

“O,” she whispered. 

“Who’s O?” Sawyer shouted. 

“Someone get Steve!”

“Where the hell is he?”

_ “Find him! Steve’s O!” _

There was more shouting, raised voices and garbled sounds, but they started going fuzzy. Peggy didn’t register the tingling in her fingers and toes until it was gone. She wasn’t so cold anymore, either. 

A face swam in her vision, and the light slapping on her cheek brought it into focus.  _ “Peggy!” _

“She needs blood,” James demanded. “She’s O!” 

Peggy closed her eyes and when they opened again, Steve was stripped to the waist, a needle deep in his arm. She had one too. They were attached by a long, plastic tubing, and he was squeezing hot blood towards her. 

“That's not gonna help. It's not enough!”

“Shut up and look for more blood!”

“She's gonna pull through!  _ She has to!” _

All the voices faded out, until Peggy could lock onto only one. “Come on,” Steve whispered. “Come on, Peggy, you can do it. You're my best girl, you can do this, sweetheart, you can pull through, Peggy.”

Tears were streaming down his face, but Peggy couldn't tell, because she couldn't make it out anymore. 

_ “Tá grá agam duit,” _ she breathed.

“Peggy, wha—”

His voice was drowned out by a long, blood-curdling scream. Peggy tried to turn her head, tried to find the source, only to realize it was coming from her. Then she felt it: blinding, freezing pain that burned through her bloodstream, setting every part of her on fire. Her shoulder was a ball of flames, and she could feel the bones and muscles shifting under her skin. Her breathing stopped, at odds with her racing heart, and Peggy could only feel the pain, and it was the last thing she felt before her heart gave out and she finally knew no more.

 

* * *

 

She heard voices flying past, mud squelching in rhythm as they went, and it sounded so much like base that Peggy immediately felt at ease. She took a deeper breath, and realized that she was breathing. The next thing she realized was that her ribs were killing her, and the pain was enough to make her mutter out a “fuck.”

Hands she had not felt wrapped around her hips tightened, and she opened her eyes. 

_ “Peggy.” _

She closed her eyes and forced them open again. “Steve?”

“Yeah, Peg. It's me.” He was sitting on the side of the cot she was laying in, his hands still at her hips. “How are you feeling?”

“Like an elephant sat on my chest,” she said. She tried to sit up and immediately deemed it a bad idea when pain bloomed in her shoulder. Steve helped her settle down again, and she leaned into the kiss he pressed to her brow. She had a feeling that she'd come pretty close to death, and she was going to take what she could at the moment. 

“What happened?” she asked at the same time he said, “What do you remember?”

“You first,” Steve pulled his hands away and drew a chair near, and Peggy felt his absence more sharply than she should have. 

“I remember storming the base,” she started. “We all split up. I got hit in the back, my shoulder. I remember… pain. Screaming. That's about it.”

Steve sat forward in his chair, his fingers twitching a bit. Peggy recognized the particular motion for what it was: a sign he wanted his sketchbook. It was one of the nervous few tells he allowed himself, and she knew the news was not going to be good. “You were shot, in the shoulder blade, like you said. It took us more than thirty minutes to find you, and by then, you had bled out a lot. The plasma we had was destroyed by a grenade, and the base didn't have any. I was the only person with your blood type.”

“Alright.” That made sense, and fit in almost perfectly with what she remembered. “Still not as bad as the time I was hanged. Were the boys working on my shoulder at the same time? I felt things moving.”

“No. Peggy…” Steve took a deep breath and reached for her hand. “Peggy, I gave you my blood.”

Was she deaf? “I heard you the first time, Rogers.”

“No, Peg, you don't… We found you bleeding for more than half an hour. You had lost too much blood, Peggy. You shouldn't be alive.”

“But…” everything suddenly snapped into place. “Your blood. Your  _ blood _ . The  _ serum _ in your blood.”

“Yeah.”

Peggy grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled herself up. He had to help her sit up, but the pain in her shoulder after she was upright was significantly less. “But… We needed vials and vials of serum, and Erskine, and the Vita-Rays for you.”

“Peggy, you're not a six-foot-tall man.”

Thank heavens  _ that _ was true. “But how could the serum…”

“I don’t know, but you said you felt pain, right? Did it feel like fire and ice at the same time? Like your bones were melting and everything under your skin was alive?”

“...yes. So the movement I felt in my shoulder was the serum fixing me?”

“The wound in your shoulder looks weeks old instead of days. You have bruises, but they're almost healed. Your heart stopped, for a while, actually.” He took a deep breath, swallowing a wetness in his lungs Peggy could hear. “We had to pump your chest and bring you back.”

Her mouth fell open. “I died?”

“You're alive.”

She needed a moment to process that. “But I'm not a supersoldier. Or am I?”

“I have no idea. Do you,” he sniffed, looking down at his hands. “Do you feel any differently?”

“Besides shot, exhausted, battered and bruised? I could go for a cup of tea, but that’s a constant.”

That made him smile a bit. “But are you ok?”

She took inventory of her bruises again, testing her range of movement. “It’s painful,” she said honestly, “but I prefer it to being dead. Thank you for that.” She looked down at her hands again. “It’s just… will anything happen to me?” She’d seen Steve through his battery of tests after Erskine’s experiment, and she was willing to avoid that experience at all costs. 

Steve reached out and took her hands in his. “You’ll be ok,” he said firmly. Peggy wanted to tease him for trying to use his Captain America voice on her, but she was comforted by the strength he exuded. “Nothing is going to happen to you.” He smirked down at her. “There’s no way you’re going to become a dancing monkey.”

“I’d like the see them try,” she said, wincing up at him. “Who knows?”

“The Howlies and that’s it. You were healing up on the way back, and so we told Colonel Phillips that you’d gotten a minor wound.”

Steve was great at making people follow his orders, but he still wore his heart on his sleeve most of the time.  _ “You _ lied to Phillips?”

There was a pause. “Bucky told Phillips you’d gotten a minor wound.”

“That sounds more plausible.” She took a deep breath and forced herself not to wince at the pain. “Very well, then. Let’s get back to work.”

She made to stand up, only to be pushed back down by Steve. “Steve—”

“You’ve been here one night, Peg. You need to rest.”

Her jaw dropped. “That serum is fixing me, you said so yourself.”

“The docs still said you need another week of bedrest.”

_ “A week?!” _

“At least.”

“Who the hell do those quacks think they are?” she fumed. “I have work to do. We destroyed one base, but that code is going to appear in some other communications, I just know it.”

He crossed his arms. “Then you can look at it after you’ve healed.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned close, nearly touching noses. “Do you think you can boss me around like that, Rogers?”

“‘Do as Peggy says.’ Wasn’t that what you were always telling the boys?” He smirked. “Can’t seem to follow instructions yourself, though.”

“Prat.”

“Just looking out for you, Peg.” She opened up her mouth to retaliate when he continued. “I need someone to save me when I stick my neck out too far. Not gonna turn down a fella in distress, are ya?”

She glared. He winked at her, and she surged forward, pressing her mouth to his. He kissed her back immediately, arms wrapping gingerly around her waist. Her hands went to his shoulders, keeping herself steady. It might have been her imagination, but she was not nearly as out of breath when they finally pulled apart, panting and smiling at each other. 

“Is that going to be a thing, now?” Steve asked, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“Depends,” she deadpanned. “Are we going to talk about the kiss at Ornstein’s house?”

“Depends,” he affected an exaggerated simper, making her giggle. “Are we gonna talk about what happened at the Rathaus?”

“Are we gonna talk about you calling me your best girl when you were giving me blood?”

“Are we gonna talk about you telling me you loved me when you were about to die?”

“So that’s what that means,” she said, feigning shock. “James never said.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” he smirked against her lips.

“Later, my darling,” she whispered, loving the way he blushed with her words. “I want to change your mind first about this bedrest thing.”

He turned red, but met her gaze straight on. “I’m a hardass when it comes to my team’s safety, Agent Carter. You’re not leaving this bed until the doctors clear you for duty.”

“I’m not one of your men,” she pointed out. “You can’t order me around.”

“The hell I can’t,” he smiled, echoing their conversation the night of his first mission. “I’m a captain.” He swallowed her snort of laughter with his mouth, and Peggy stopped fighting. Bedrest might not be the worst thing in the world, she figured, wrapping herself around Steve. 

Peggy would never admit it to his face, but James had a point: the war would keep. They had all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think?
> 
> Shameless appropriation of movie lines, that's my tagline. I really liked the idea of a supersoldier Peggy, so lemme know what you think in the comments below!
> 
> I am going to continue with the series; 'Mr. Carter and Mrs. Rogers' already has several chapters up, written before this first part was a fluff bunny in the corner of my mind. I'm gonna be re-reading/re-writing/re-uploading some parts, to be noted in the story summary. Yes, that's going to be incredibly confusing. I hope to see some of you guys there!
> 
> Follow Aenaria at aenariasbookshelf.tumblr.com . She's awesome!

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
